Loyaulte Me Lie
by Dua Delacroix
Summary: Harry has reached his limit with the demands put upon him as the Chosen One. Hermione is determined to find somewhere that she is free and respected. Their only hope for a peaceful future is clear, if unexpected: disappear once more and start new lives - together, as one. HarryHermione. Post-Deathly Hallows. No Epilogue/EWE.
1. Chapter I: End of An Era

**INTRODUCTION**

Welcome to **_Loyaulte Me Lie_**! This story is my twist on a classic inception scenario for the Harmony ship: Harry and Hermione realize bitter truths after the war and decide to leave and start new lives, together as a couple. I also wanted to explore a realistic anti-Weasley fic, without over the top bashing or having Harry or Hermione become mouth-pieces for the author's personal dislike of the Weasley characters.

If your favorite character is a Weasley or you believe in the sanctity of canon-established couples, steer clear. But, if you would like to see Harry and Hermione together and in love, always faithful and loyal to each other -

Then this is the fic for you. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter I**: End of an Era

**Tuesday, 22 June 1999**

A thunderous round of applause was not what Harry expected to be greeted with, as he entered the Auror's Office with a bound and captured Theophanus Nott.

"That's our boy!"

"Potter has done it again! He's unstoppable!"

"Our Savior has delivered us again! Well done, Potter - well done!"

Against all protocol and professionalism, it seemed like all of the Auror Department had gathered to witness what they believed to be a historical moment: the morning that Harry Potter had brought in the last Death Eater.

A flash of light went off, blinding him for a split-second. When his vision cleared, through the haze of the instinctive Shield Charm he'd thrown up, Harry realized that it had been the harmless flash of a camera snapping a wizard photograph.

Someone had _taken a picture_ of him.

Snapped a photograph as if he'd just arrived at a Witch Weekly event or a Quidditch match.

A respected and sworn Auror was behvaing no better than a reporter or an overenthusiastic fan, as if they didn't know themselves what an apprehension of a Wizarding criminal could involve and what great, dangerous personal risk it was to perform such a duty.

Nott had nearly killed Harry and had murdered fourteen people as he'd fled arrest and capture. Robards had been here at the Ministry to receive them, waiting since Harry had reported the successful apprehension - but, he hadn't been there himself. Robards was standing there, soaking in the glory and the praise as he held onto Nott's other arm, but this was an accomplishment that he had very little to do with.

Perhaps that was why Robards was allowing this uncalled for outburst to carry on with good cheer, smiling indulgently as the dark blonde Auror snapped two or three more.

Harry glared, his teeth clenching as his eyes began to swim with purplish spots from the camera's repeated flash.

"For posterity, of course!" announced the photographing Senior Auror, a witch that Harry didn't know by name. "There'll never be another catch like _this _\- "

Several Aurors seemed to be ready to come up and pose with Harry, Nott, and Robards, but Harry raised his wand, threateningly.

"That's far enough, lads," said Harry, pointedly. "This is a wanted and highly dangerous war criminal. Getting close isn't exactly a good idea, though I'm shocked this has to be pointed out..."

The Aurors halted and they all looked startled that Harry didn't approve of a spontaneous group photograph.

Harry could only imagine the boastful and embellished rounds such a photograph would make around the Ministry. The Aurors would go about the Ministry, allowing sneaks and peaks at the photo and making it an open secret - and, all too soon, an open secret in the Ministry would be a public declaration in the pages of the _Daily Prophet_ and other newsprint in Wizarding Britain. From there, it would get picked up by the British Wizarding Wireless, and then it would make it to the international newswire.

There was precious little privacy he had these days and the thought of an unexpected photo adding to the unending attention and focus that was on him every moment, for the past thirteen months since he'd defeated Voldemort...

Harry clenched his teeth tightly, his mouth thinning with anxiety. He felt violated and exposed, as the horde of Aurors pressed around them still, wanting to capture every moment of what they saw as something to be celebrated and enjoyed.

"Alright, alright, enough already, corpsmen," declared Gawain Robards, his ruddy face glowing with smug cheer. His words sounded stern - but, he was grinning indulgently at his disorderly and disruptive corpsmen. "We all knew the Chosen One would deliver us again, so there there's no need for all the theatrics. Order in the Corps!"

The Captain's Command was one that all Aurors took seriously, although their collective obedience was half-hearted, at best.

The Aurors broke rank around Harry, Nott, and Robards, drifting back to their work stations and duties - but, nobody was focused on work in the least.

The dull roar of conversation and discussion was nothing like the quiet, focused, and disciplined atmosphere that Robards usually required in the Auror Corps Offices. Harry had never known people to be gathered in clusters, shouting and talking and exclaiming to one another like Hogwarts students, as he and Robards steered Nott towards the holding cells.

Harry could only breath properly, it seemed, when they passed through the heavy steel doors that lead to the stairwell that would take them down to the holding cells.

The stairwell was defeaningly quiet compared to the uproar of the work stations and Harry appreciated it, immensely.

The echo of their collective footsteps - Nott's dragging from a broken ankle, Robards's heavy, proud footfalls, and his own slightly squelching steps, from boots covered in blood and mud - was almost soothing. Anything was better than words and chatter and grating excitement.

Robards seemed content to honor his wordless lead, his indulgent grin remaining as they came to a halt before a super-maximum security cell. There were no words exchanged or needed, as Harry let go of Nott's spindly arm and allowed Robards to roughly guide Nott into the cell that would neutralize his magic and keep him bound to his bed for twenty-three hours a day.

Harry took a moment to simply breathe.

It was truly over with, now.

There was nothing more of the Dark Order that was left.

Voldemort was forever gone, his Death Eaters were forever gone, and the network of allies and spies that had kept the movement protected and allowed it to corrupt nearly all of Wizarding Britain was dismantled and powerless.

Harry clutched his hands together as they began to shake.

The rot and destruction of Voldemort's reign had poisoned his life since he was fifteen months old. He hadn't known a moment where Voldemort hadn't been a lurking presence or blatant nightmare to him, not even when he was ignorant of the Wizarding World and knew nothing of his past. Voldemort had been connected and interwoven into his life from the moment the madman had decided to give life to a prophecy -

And now, it was over with.

Robards slammed the door of the cell shut, soundly.

"The end of an era, eh?" said Robards, clapping his hands together jovially. "Right, then. Potter, there is a lot to talk about! I can have the paperwork started in the next fifteen or twenty minutes, and we'll have an office brunch to discuss - "

Harry halted in the stairwell, looking up at Robards sharply.

"There are families to be notified. Nott murdered over a dozen people!"

Robards stopped smiling, briefly. "Notifications to the next of kin of the decedents is being handled. There's no need for you to do so, personally, Potter."

Harry's face tightened. "Fourteen people lost someone today and they deserve to know, personally, that the criminal responsible for it has been arrested and will be brought to justice. That is more important to paperwork, I think."

"Potter," Robards said and it was clear that he was struggling with appeasing someone so much younger than him, even if it were the Chosen One, "I know you've gotten familiar with the Ministry in the past year, the Auror Corps, especially. Therefore, I'm sure I don't have to remind you that it is standard protocol that we inform the next of kin through written record, and adhering to protocol - "

Harry scoffed in no little amount of disgust.

"Protocol, my arse." Harry thundered up the stairs, pushing past Robards with no small lack of grace. "If you won't do it, then I will."

Robards glared. "Right now? Potter, there's paperwork and the arrest to process and - "

Harry spun on his heel, looking at the Auror Captain balefully.

"There are people right now who are waking up, unaware that they'll never again see one of the fourteen people that were murdered over the course of last night. That is never something you write in post and send with an owl or a nameless Ministry staffer." Harry glared deeply, as he made it perfectly clear to the Auror Captain: "I don't give a damn about your paperwork, Robards."

Harry left the Auror Captain to himself, as he turned down the short corridor that would lead to a side exit and away from the Ministry for Magic.


	2. Chapter II: Savior No More

[**Author's Note**: Many thanks to all of you for all the lovely reviews and the stunning response! There will be a few more chapters to this, but all of the chapters will be relatively short like this.

I want to really get into why Harry and Hermione would come to the conclusion that they belong together and the fallout from such a decision. Again, there will be no author-insert mouth-piece'ing from either Harry or Hermione, as satisfying as it can be. Instead, I will be using all the instances of negative character development from the Weasleys as found in canon. I have a good idea of how they would respond to Harry and Hermione being together, when Harry has had a relationship with Ginny and it seemed inevitable that Hermione would end up with Ron - and, it isn't pretty, but possible, based off the flaws I feel we've seen of Weasleys in canon.

Thank you for the reviews and here is the second part of **_Loyaulte Me Lie_**!]

* * *

**Chapter II**: _Savior No More_

Dusk was settling into Diagon Alley, as Harry appeared suddenly in the alley beside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

His hands were trembling, his stomach churned with sour nausea, and there was a tightness in his chest born from the deeply distressing day he'd had.

His crack of Apparition was sloppy and loud in his distress and a litter of stray Kneazles were deeply startled by his sudden, scattered arrival. The Kneazles hissed angrily at the disruption, scattering through the neatly aligned dustbins.

Alone and shaken, Harry stared sightlessly after the Kneazles, leaning against the bricks heavily.

Robards had been right and though he'd never tell him, Harry wished he would have listened to the Auror Captain.

Clearly, the protocol of notification through owl post was in place for a reason. It wasn't to be inhuman or thoughtless, as he had felt when he'd heard of the policy. It was in place to protect the official responsible for notifying the next of kin of a victim's death - and, only now did Harry understand why and regret his defiance.

Owl post would have been neat, effective, and safe. The piece of parchment would have delivered the world-shattering news, sat quietly as the recipient took in the news and it settled in their minds - and then, the worst that would have happened was that it would be destroyed in a fit of emotion. The parchment nor the owl would have known the difference nor would either medium be affected by the aftershocks of disclosing the unexpectedly tragic news of the fourteen senseless deaths.

Harry wasn't a piece of parchment nor was he an owl.

Despite what he'd thought when he'd snapped at Robards and stormed from the Auror Corps Office, the experience of personally going and informing each of the next of kin had been...more than he could handle.

Bile rose in his throat, tears stung behind his eyes, and Harry couldn't stop his hands from trembling something awful, as his mind reeled through each and every instance of visiting the victim's next of kin.

He had never had do anything like that before and the nausea and despair churning within him made him feverishly desire to not ever have to do anything like that again.

With a deep breath, Harry gathered what was left of his strength, and looked around at where he'd arrived to.

A slight smile tugged at his pinched mouth, as he realized where his Apparition had brought him to in Diagon Alley -

The flat above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, where Hermione lived and was sure to be home, after her shift as a clerk at George's shop.

* * *

One last wave of her wand and Hermione watched with tired satisfaction as the last box sealed itself and floated up to the topmost shelf of the row, neatly sliding itself in the only available slot there was.

Inventory for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was completed, until this same time next year.

"I can't believe I'm saying it, but Muggles really do know what they're doing, sometimes." Verity Montague announced, putting her hands on her narrow hips with satisfaction. "I can't believe how well all the Muggle procedures and processes that Mr. Weasley integrated into our operations are faring across both stores!"

Hermione eyed the older witch with suppressed distaste. "Muggles aren't particularly smart animals or children, Verity. We have a wide, complex civilization and culture - and, as you can see from _my _recommendations on retail operations to George, we are well ahead of Wizarding folk in lots of respects."

Verity turned away, scoffing. "A few solid recommendations for streamlining a growing merchant enterprise is hardly complex or wide, dearie. I know you're Muggleborn and get a bit defensive about your native world - but, you're a witch now." Verity glanced over her shoulder thinly, eyeing Hermione sharply as she added: "If you're going to be a witch, you have to learn to leave the Muggle World behind and accept that magic is superior. That's just how the world was made."

Hermione clenched her wand, wanting nothing more than to hex the narrow-minded blonde witch, as Verity turned back around.

Instead, she reminded herself that she if she were to be fired, she'd likely be evicted from the flat above the shop because she wouldn't be able to afford the rent. George had turned over the lease to her last summer and the landlord, while not unkind, was not necessarily the most warm or understanding.

This was truly the one place in the Wizarding World that she had to go. She couldn't allow a fit of temper to ruin that for her.

Swallowing back the bitter anger that was crawling up her chest, Hermione stowed her wand deliberately in her sleeve-holster, and inhaled, deeply.

"Is there anything else that's needed before I punch out?" asked Hermione, careful and deliberate.

"Nope." Verity waved dismissively at her, not turning around as she added: "Enjoy your next two days off and I'll see you on Friday morning."

Hermione didn't answer, leaving the warehouse and leaving Verity to herself. She was stony-faced, as she signed the timesheet that noted the end of her shift, and as quickly as humanly possible, she relieved herself of the awful magenta work robes she was required to wear and prepared to head upstairs to her flat.

Whatever exhaustion or anger or annoyance she felt fled from her, only to be replaced by a horrified shock, as she looked upwards and saw Harry Potter sitting on her front step -

Covered in blood, robes torn, and cradling his head in his hands, as he sat hunched over on the topmost step of her staircase.

"_Harry_!"

Hermione took the tall staircase two at a time. In the moment, she completely forgot of her magic and that she could have covered the distance with Apparation in the blink of an eye. All she was concerned about was Harry and how badly he was hurt, how he'd even gotten this way and what danger he was in right now.

Hermione practically lunged at Harry, her hands instantly going to the tears in his robes to check for blood or wounds.

"Hey, hey - no, calm down, Hermione - " Harry grabbed hold of her hands, his hands warm but trembling slightly, and his grip was so strong, Hermione was forced to pause in her frantic touches. "I'm alright, I'm not hurt. I just haven't had a chance to clean up, that's all."

"Harry, what happened? You look like you've been in a duel! Like someone attacked you!" Hermione searched his face, critically, trying to find any hint of a lie or if he was simply downplaying what was going on. He looked shaken, but not hurt.

"I was in a duel and I was attacked - but, it's over now," Harry rushed to assure her, as Hermione's entire body tensed and she tried to stand up, despite his continued grip on her slender, supple hands. "I captured Theophanus Nott this morning and brought him into custody. He was the last one. There are no more - I did it, I ended all of it for good."

Hermione was flooded with relief and awe. Her own hands started to tremble just as his were, as Harry leaned forward with a shaky laugh and rested his forehead upon hers. Her breath hitched in her throat, a number of emotions spiking in her as she took in Harry's words, the pair of them simply leaning on one another and trembling with the overwhelming truth of the moment.

"Hermione, the wars are over with and there is nothing left of Voldemort. It's over with - forever."

Something like a sob and a laugh came from Hermione, as she leaned back with a watery smile.

"I should throttle you for scaring the magic out of me, sitting on my step looking like this," Hermione said, with a grin and a sniffle. "However, I'm simply too damned proud of you to care much. You're free now, Harry! Your life is finally yours again and all of this is over with."

Hermione was filled with warmth as Harry beamed at her.

His haunted and tired eyes briefly shone with sincere delight at her simple and genuine praise. His glasses were cracked, there was a splash of dark rusted head across his face that must have been blood and who knew what else, and a nasty gash across his neck looked sloppily healed - but, in that moment, holding her hands in his and confessing of his final act of heroism, Harry looked happy and weightless for the first time Hermione could remember.

"Come on, then, let's get you inside and cleaned up." Hermione said, squeezing his hands once more and untangling her hands from his with a touch of reluctance. "You look like hell, but I guess that's to be expected, hm?"

"You won't believe what I went through to catch Nott, not even when I tell you." Harry sighed deeply, as he helped Hermione to her feet, and added, sounding impossibly young but entirely too ancient and weary, all at once: "Can we do pad thai and ginger wine and a movie on the telly, while I tell you about it? I need to - I need to breathe and forget about magic, for a bit."

Hermione felt her heart ache and soften, all at once.

There was so much that Harry had sacrificed and never experienced because of his unusual childhood and the unthinkable burden of being destined to defeat and rid the world of Voldemort. Simple pleasures that she took for granted and didn't think much of - movies, television, takeout - were delightful rewards to Harry, who'd only been able to truly live in the past year, since living on his own.

Pressing her hand to the smooth wood of her front door, Hermione felt her wardsmithing recognize her as the mistress of the house, and the door swung open on its own accord.

Hermione smiled, as Harry closed the door behind him and took off his boots in the same movement, familiar with her no shoe policy without having to be asked or reminded.

"Of course we can, Harry. You've saved the world for the last time and you don't ever have to be the Chosen One again - we can do whatever you like."

* * *

[**Author's Note**: I know JKR has stated that Harry went immediately into the Auror Department, because a superstar Auror, and revolutionized the Ministry...but, I wanted to take a different route, a more realistic approach to how a deeply traumatized and preyed-upon person like Harry would want nothing more than peace and stability after his unthinkable childhood and adolescence. So, that really was the end of Harry's involvement with the Auror Department after the war and now, we're officially in post-DHs/No Epilogue territory.

Hermione being a clerk at WWW is not as unthinkable as you might imagine and I explain my reasoning for this choice in over the next few chapters. I know everyone (including JKR) is tempted to give her the world just as soon as the war is over, but I think that Hermione would face more challenges integrating into the Wizarding World as an adult than she ever did as a child. Especially because her sole exposure to the Wizarding World was as a student in Hogwarts (a very isolated environment) and brief visits to the wider Wizarding World through school breaks - and even those brief visits were controlled, because she was Harry Potter's close friend. I wanted to explore the troubles that a Muggleborn would have becoming a Wizarding citizen after only being a part of the Wizarding World as a student for a few years - and why that might prompt Hermione to change her mind about her future in the Wizarding World.]


	3. Chapter III: What Future Comes Now

**Chapter III**: _What Future Comes Now_

The bewitched mailbox she'd installed right beside the front door was glowing when Hermione returned from her errands to Muggle London.

Hermione frowned. She had just checked the mail before departing for Muggle London, finding nothing a reminder from her landlord that her rent was due next week. She wasn't expecting anymore post, but according to mailbox - there was quite a bit waiting, recently delivered by owl.

When Hermione retrieved the post and read who the senders were - her lips thinned in worry.

Each piece of post was from various person within the Ministry, addressed to Harry and postmarked with a bright blue seal. The seal of an urgent communication from top Ministry officials.

Harry noticed it as quickly as she did, for when she walked into the door and closed it behind her, sealing the wards once more - he sat up straighter, glaring at the post in her hand.

"Please tell me that is for you." Harry said, sourly.

Hermione shook her head, regretfully. "You know better than that. There is no reason for the Ministry to be sending me this load of post." Handing the thick bundle to an unhappy Harry, Hermione knelt down before her coffee table and opened her clutch, reaching for the takeout, wine and beer, and all else she'd picked up in Muggle London. "All of it is for you and from any number of people."

Harry scoffed. "The Auror Captain, the Minister for Magic, the Head of the DMLE, the Department of International Magical Cooperation - and, bloody hell, there's even one in there from the Wizengamot."

Hermione looked up, worried. The smell of Thai takeout was heavenly, but not enough to distract her from the sudden twist of anxiety in her chest. Those were very serious departments within the Ministry, especially the Wizengamot, the high court of the Wizarding World.

If all of them were contacting Harry at once, with urgent postmarkers - it could mean any number of things, things that didn't necessarily mean well.

"Well, are you going to open any of it?" asked Hermione, quietly.

Harry didn't answer for several moments, staring down at the post in his hands. When he looked up at her, Hermione felt a hitch in her breath at the haunted gleam in his emerald-jade eyes. He looked so very young and so very old, all at once.

"No. Whatever it is, I'll look at it in the morning."

Harry tossed down the bundle of post on the side table, turning his back on it deliberately.

With a wave of his wand, Harry Summoned dishware from her kitchen, catching the zipping collection of plates, glasses, and silverware with the lithe hands of a Seeker. Hermione watched sadly, as he sorted out the dishware beside each other, for her and for himself, and began dishing the food.

"What if it is time-sensitive? They are marked urgent. You could at least look at it, be sure it isn't an emergency - "

"_No_, Hermione." Harry said firmly. His hands were the opposite of the hardness in his voice, as he put down a plate dished with exactly what she wanted and in the exact proportion she'd have chosen for herself, without asking. "There are no more emergencies, no more urgent owls and last minute firecalls. I'm done being at the beck and call of the Ministry, doing their dirty work for them and being kept on their leash. There is no more Voldemort, no more Death Eaters, and nothing of the Dark Order remains. _I'm done_."

Hermione blinked, holding back tears.

Harry sighed, taking a deep drink of his ginger beer. "You said yourself - I'm free. My life is my own again. What I choose to do with my life is spend tonight with you, then worry about everything else in the morning. To hell with being the Boy Who Lived..."

Hermione wiped at her eyes, her tears both sorrowful and proud, at once. Those were indeed her words, spoken earlier when she'd been relieved by the news of Nott's capture and could only think of the weight that was finally off of Harry's shoulders.

Voldemort's defeat had left an awful mess over the past year or so. It hadn't stopped the war immediately nor had it brought the instant peace that they'd naively believed it would. There had been desperate and ruthless Death Eaters to apprehend, a Ministry that needed to be liberated and a suspended government that left martial law in place indefinitely, Hogwarts had needed to be rebuild and the wards restored - and, there were so many missing, so many dead, and so many who'd been compromised, traumatized, and who'd fled.

Wizarding Britain was fractured and without any leadership, without any guidance, Harry had taken on the impossible task of continuing the Order of the Phoenix's mission. He'd become a war leader at eighteen and had spent the past year bringing the Second Civil War to an end - and finally, finally, it was over with.

Harry was right.

He was free and his life was his own - and, if he wanted to wait until the morning, it was his right and he deserved it.

Hermione raised her glass to Harry, taking a long drink of her ginger wine.

"I understand, Harry. Honestly, I do. Let's have a nice dinner, watch a few movies - and, you'll worry about whatever, in the morning."

* * *

Two movies and half of the takeout later, Harry made a satisfied noise, watching the credits roll across the television screen without truly seeing them. A quick tap of his wand between movies had Transfigured the couch into something closer to a chaise and he'd stretched out, lazily.

This was peace and this was what he'd needed.

Hermione gave him a smile, as he yawned massively, stretching and settling back into his comfortable spot on the couch.

"What do you think will come next, now that it's all over?" asked Hermione, suddenly but quietly. "What are your plans for the future?"

His belly full of pad thai, his body warm with ginger beer, and knowing that there was nothing in the world that he had to do but sit here with Hermione and simply be - the question didn't seem as overwhelming as it could have. It didn't mean he had an answer, however.

"I dunno, honestly. I've known for so long that I couldn't have a future while Voldemort was still out there, then the war and the Horcruxes - I honestly stopped thinking I had a future." Harry confessed, distantly surprised by his own honesty. "I never thought about what life I'd want or what I want to do next, because I didn't think I'd be able to."

Hermione made a soft noise and reached for his hand. "Oh, Harry. That's - " Her words choked off and she swallowed, thickly. "Well, you do have a future now and it can be anything you want it to. What do you want?"

Harry squeezed her hand, tightly.

"You answer first. Maybe if I hear the grand master plan you have, it will help me get on track. Kind of like looking at your planner reminded me of what homework was due..." Harry grinned.

Hermione smiled back, but it was fleeting. She continued to hold his hand securely, the coolness of her hand feeling quite lovely against the warmth of his own hand. Harry distantly noted how their hands seemed to fit together, as if they were meant to hold each other, exactly.

"Well, the first thing I want to do, now that it's over and it's safe - I need to go find my parents."

Harry stopped smiling, sitting up sharply.

"Bloody hell - your parents." Harry breathed out, shocked and disappointed in himself that he rarely thought of the Grangers. "It's been so long since you've spoken about them and with all that's been going on - oh, man. Hermione, I'm so sorry."

Harry felt as though he didn't deserve the comfort he should surely be giving Hermione in this moment, her honey-brown eyes swimming with tears. He didn't know what to do, however. Did she want to be hugged? Was holding her hand enough? Were those tears of sadness or did she feel guilty for using magic against her parents? Harry simply didn't know and settled for holding her hand in both his hands, securely and fiercely.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, honestly." Hermione sniffed. "I did what I had to do. I don't know how they'll react to that reasoning once the enchantment is lifted, but it's the truth. I needed to keep them safe from magic and for as long as the war made it dangerous for them. The war is over with now, there is no one that could harm them anymore - and, I want - I want - "

"You want them back." Harry finished for her, feelingly. The yearning for her parents that she'd felt in the two years since she'd bewitched them and sent them abroad was the same yearning he'd held for his own parents, all his life.

Hermione nodded. The hand that Harry wasn't holding came up to her mouth as she sobbed, pained and aching.

"I've lied to them about so much and kept so much from them, I'm not sure they'll forgive me when I lift the enchantment, Harry. How do I explain any of this? How will I be able to make it right?"

Hermione began to shake with the strength of her sobs and this time, Harry didn't have to doubt what to do. He scooted over to close the space between himself and Hermione, pulling her into his arms, fiercely. Hermione practically wailed as his arms came around her securely, allowing her to rest on his bare, bandage chest as she continued to cry.

"You don't know that they'll be angry with you," Harry tried, as comfortingly as he could. "For all you know, they'll be so happy that you survived - they won't think anything of it."

"Of course they'll be angry! I've interrupted their careers, taken their lives, and there is nothing for them to come back to. Their house has been sold, their practice has been dissolved, and they've been declared legally dead by the Muggle government - "

Hermione was almost crazed as she sat up, her face twisted with guilt and pain and shame.

"Harry, I've stolen their lives and sent them to a foreign land and the lives they think they do have - it's all an illusion of magic! Magic that I used against them and magic that they couldn't do anything about, because only I have it!"

Harry looked at her sadly.

Hermione had clearly been thinking about this deeply, in the two years since she'd made the impossible choice to save her parents the best way she knew how. This had probably been eating at her the entire time and now that the day had come to undo it and tell the truth - she was so afraid her parents would hate her, she couldn't even be happy about having her parents back and in a world without Voldemort.

Harry held her as tightly as he could. He ignored the sting of his bandages, focusing only on the coolness of her cheek against his chest and the warmth of her aching tears.

He wasn't sure of what he would do next or what the future held for him -

What he did know was what his next task was, to be started first thing in the morning.

The Grangers needed to be found, wherever they were in Australia, and the enchantment that Hermione had put upon them had to be lifted. If she was afraid of how they would react or couldn't face the enormous weight of telling them the truth of why they'd had to be enchanted and their lives stolen, then Harry would be right there with her. He would help her to explain, he'd provide proof and support to the painful and uncomfortable truth she had to share, and he'd be there to stand with her and bear out whatever Mr. and Mrs. Granger had to say, once the truth had been told and they were themselves, once more.

He wouldn't leave her alone in this for one moment, as she'd never left him alone in anything he'd had to face and overcome, since they'd been friends.

Hermione had stood for him and stood with him since he was eleven, never once doubting or wavering - and now, he had a chance to do the same for her.

Harry held Hermione tighter, leaning his head on her rebellious curls as she cried.

Just as Hermione had never left him, he would never leave her, and if the next adventure to be had was a trip to Australia - then, so be it. It was the least she deserved and if he could do this for her, be there with her for this, Harry would, without a doubt.

* * *

Hundreds of miles away in Devon, there was a wizard who _did_ believe he knew what the future held for him.

Anxiously, Ron waited for his mother to come back downstairs from her bedroom. When he'd stayed after dinner and quietly explained to her what he wanted to do and what he needed from her, Molly hadn't seemed pleased. She was more pleased than she had been when Bill had announced his engagement to Fleur but still not anywhere near as pleased as Ron hoped she would be. Quietly, Molly had listened to his intentions, argued with his reasoning, then finally sat with her cup of tea without speaking, before abruptly rising from the kitchen table and headed up to her bedroom.

Molly clearly had a certain opinion about his intention to ask Hermione for her hand in marriage and for them to have a Christmas wedding. She wasn't unhappy, Ron knew, but neither was she happy. He nervously swallowed down the rest of his tea.

Molly had gone upstairs several moments ago and that she'd gone upstairs at all - well, that was encouraging and a good sign. He was probably thinking too hard about it, as it was.

Several minutes later, Molly came back downstairs and it was a quiet sigh of relief that Ron saw she held her heirloom jewelry box in her hands.

He had never had an interest in the slender, carved oak chest, only known that it was very precious to his mother and he shouldn't bother it. Now, as an adult, he looked at the jewelry box with different eyes, knowing that inside rested generations of family heirlooms and gifts that Molly had preserved of the House of Prewett and would meaningfully give out to her seven children through their lives and on special occasions.

Ron beamed at her and unable to resist the light in his smile, Molly smiled back, softly and full of affection for her youngest son.

"_Thank you_, Mum. This means a lot to me, Mum. This - this will make everything perfect."

Molly retrieved from the jewelry box the ring he'd asked her for - Grandmother Prewett's engagement ring.

"I can't say that I'm all too thrilled about this, but if you're sure you know your heart and this is the right step..."

Ron nodded, determinedly. "This is what we _all_ need, Mum. We need happiness and weddings and family to look forward to, after all this. Ginny will be home from Hogwarts this weekend, back at home with all of us where she belongs - and you know what I'm sure of? Harry will be of the same mind as me. This is going to be good, Mum - you'll see."

Molly's eyes were sparkling with tears.

"A bit of happiness would be wonderful to have around here." Molly said, with a quiet little sob. "It would be nice."

Ron nodded, fiercely.

This was what was necessary and needed. The war had taken too much from their family and if it was going keep persisting - then, Ron would do what could be done to be happy, in spite of it. He couldn't take another day of his mother crying, his father moving through life like an Inferus, or his brothers trying to be strong for their parents and for George - but, slowly cracking under pressure and inching towards misery.

What their family needed was happiness, joy to look forward, and reminders of why the war could take but they didn't have to stop living or loving.

"I'll ask this weekend, when Ginny comes back from Hogwarts, so we can all be here." Ron stared at the ring, confident that Hermione would appreciate an engagement ring steeped in family and Wizarding history, and wondering if he could ask his father for a Weasley heirloom for their wedding. "What do you think of me doing it at Sunday dinner?"

Molly smiled through tears. "I suppose I'd better make it an extra special dinner, then, won't I?"

Ron couldn't be happier.

By the end of this weekend, he would be engaged to Hermione, their wedding planning would start at once, and the next six months would be filled with the anticipation and happiness of planning a wedding and celebrating their upcoming marriage. As he'd told his mother, he was sure that Harry was of the same mind, now that Ginny was done with Hogwarts and they could be together, as they were meant to. He'd prod Harry a bit, if Harry needed the push and reassurance that it was the right decision - and, who knew? There could be another engagement to celebrate, another wedding to plan - and the whole family would have more joy to look forward, more to take their minds from the war and what continued to be lost and taken.

He would be married to Hermione, Harry would be married to Ginny, there would be a family after the wedding, with grandchildren for their parents to love and to have to remind them that there was a bright and happy future ahead of them, no matter what.

Ron was sure of it.

He was sure the future would be better than the present or the past and he'd do everything possible to make it happen. Not only for himself, but his family.

They needed a happily ever after, with all that had happened - and this weekend was when it started.

* * *

[**Author's Note**: Thank you again for all the reviews, views, favorites, and follows! I truly appreciate it!

As you can see, Harry and Hermione aren't thinking anything close to what Ron is thinking - and this is where the conflict comes in.

Coming up next, Ron and Ginny and the Weasleys get into their heads how things should be and Harry and Hermione make it clear how things are going to be. Stay tuned for updates!]


	4. Chapter IV: Crossing of Signals

**Chapter IV**: _Crossing of Signals_

**Wednesday, 23 June 1999**

Hermione was pulled from sleep far earlier than she wanted to be the following morning, by the insistent chime of her doorbell. When she opened the door to find Ron standing on her doorstep, it took far more than it should have for her not to glare.

"_Ronald_." Hermione sighed, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes. "Good morning. Have you any idea what time it is?"

Ron was grinning at her, seeming to not notice or care that she looked tired or that her eyes were red and puffed. Instead, without being invited, he eased past her into her flat and began walking toward the kitchen.

"Shoes off!" Hermione snapped, closing the door behind her. "I shouldn't have to remind you every single time you come by, Ron."

"Oh, I'll only be here a moment. Stop your fussing." Ron helped himself to the pot of coffee on the counter, before looking towards the plate of Danish sitting on the kitchen table. "I thought you were working today," he offered, through a mouthful of pastry, "but you weren't down at the shop when I got there a few minutes ago. George let you off for the day?"

Hermione was half-listening, therefore answered distractedly. "Yes, I'm off for the next two days. I go back on Friday..."

Hermione glanced around at the living room, meticulously neat and showing none of the takeout or Healing tools that had kept the living room a mess by the time she and Harry had fallen asleep on the couch. Ron had been able to grab a cup of coffee and a Danish, because there was breakfast in a warmer on the stove and a full pot of coffee - her favorite blend, kept at the perfect temperature thanks to the charmed coffee maker.

With a frown, Hermione looked for what she knew Harry had to had left for her. She was relieved to find a quick note scribbled on the kitchen table.

Hermione grabbed up the scrap of parchment, reading it intently. Ron's attention was drawn by her eagerness and slupring on his coffee, he came to stand behind her to read it, as well.

_Polished off the rest of the Thai for my own breakfast, so yours is in the kitchen for when you wake. I'm off to the Ministry but expect to be done in time for dinner. Meet me over at Andromeda's? I think she can help with what we were talking about last night. - Harry_

Hermione felt better, knowing where Harry was and what he was up to. While she was concerned that he hadn't seem to have slept long at all, she was not surprised to find he had headed off to the Ministry as soon as he could. The bundle of mail he had received had seemed urgent...

"What were you two talking about last night?" asked Ron, curiously.

Hermione yawned, settling down at the table tiredly. "Harry captured Nott yesterday and turned him into the Ministry. Nott was the last of them, the last Death Eater, and with his capture and arrest, the war can officially be considered over with."

Hermione didn't know what reaction she expected, but Ron sitting his cup down sharply and frowning certainly wasn't it.

"How come I'm only hearing about this now?" asked Ron, quietly.

Hermione blinked. "Well, I suppose because it only happened last night. I'm not sure if anyone else is aware."

"He made _you _aware as soon as it happened, yeah?"

"Only because he was sitting on my front step, covered in blood, and I had to Heal him!" Hermione was glaring now, suddenly irritated. "What's the problem, Ron?"

"The problem is how come neither of you thought to tell me that the bloody war is over and Harry caught the last Death Eater?" Ron reached across the table and snatched the note from off of the table, nearly brandishing it at her. "Says here that you two had takeout. Obviously he wasn't near death or he'd be at St. Mungo's. If you had the time to get takeout, surely someone could have owled me! You ask me what's my problem - what's with you two leaving me out?"

A spark of anger flared within Hermione. "Please don't be ridiculous, Ronald. Nobody was leaving you out - as if - as if it were a party or a night out on the town!"

Hermione reached for the letter from his hands, somehow annoyed that he had read it in the first place to start this argument. Harry had left the private letter for her and through his own rudeness he'd seen it - and now, he was making a bigger deal out of this that needed to be.

"Yesterday, Harry was led on a chase throughout Wizarding Britain after Nott - who murdered fourteen people, including children and the elderly. He spent most of yesterday personally notifying the families of Nott's victims, while seriously wounded, and after only a couple of hours of sleep, he is back at the Ministry this morning - dealing with the aftermath of personally ending Voldemort's thirty year terrorist movement!" Hermione stood up, rolling the letter up, and looking down at Ron angrily. "For as much as you're making it about you and wondering why we weren't thinking of you - have you ever thought about Harry? You haven't even asked how he is!"

Ron stood up, as well. "Clearly he's fine, if you two spent the evening having take out and talking. He's even better than fine today, seeing as the pair of you have dinner plans tonight."

"_Dinner plans_?" Hermione echoed incredulously. "We don't have dinner plans. He said he'd likely be at the Ministry _until dinner_! I have no idea when he wants to us to visit Mrs. Tonks, just that he feels a visit is in order because she might be able to help."

Ron scoffed, too angry and too wound up to accept the simple, truthful answer. "Well, what problem does Mrs. Tonks have to help you with that I don't know about? A problem that he and you were talking about _last night_?"

Hermione stiffened as the implication of his words stung her sharply. _That _was why he was so worked up and making a big deal out of something that he shouldn't have been.

She tried to ignore the sting of hurt that blossomed in her chest. Without any reason to do so, Ron seemed to believe the absolute worst of both her and Harry and implying that last night had been something illicit or untoward...she could honestly say that she was quiet fed up with it.

Ron was supposed to be their best friend.

Together the three of them were _all _best friends. They had been so since they were eleven and as they all approached twenty, Hermione didn't think that she should have to explain herself like this. Explain herself about what should be simple and obvious, for no other reason to assuage his ridiculous insecurities.

He should _know _good and well why Harry would not go to St. Mungo's after something as terrible as the experience of Nott's apprehension. It shouldn't have been a question as to why he'd prefer to push her rudimentary Healing skills to the limit as treatment after his final skirmish - instead of seeking professional Healers. Harry no longer trusted the staff or the treatment at St. Mungo's Hospital after too many incidents of Healers and staff sneaking photographs of him or selling their memories of his time there to various Wizarding publications. There was nothing more violating to Harry than appearing in print and in photos without his knowledge - especially when he was at his most vulnerable, wounded and in need of care.

It was no secret that Harry was becoming rarer and rarer to be seen out in public because of the lack of privacy he was afforded as the Savior. As his best friend, Ron shouldn't have forgotten or needed to be reminded of this.

As their best friend, he wouldn't be implying something rude or salacious - because he wouldn't have let his darkest thoughts or insecurities be more powerful in his mind than what he knew to be true of their shared friendship.

Hermione shook her head.

"Not that I believe you'll care, but the problem I have is my parents." Hermione looked at him coldly, before settling back down into her chair and conjuring a plate to put her Danish on. "Now that there are no more Death Eaters and everything of Voldemort is gone, it's truly safe to bring my parents back and restore their memories. The problem is: I don't know how to do that or even where to find them."

Ron opened his mouth to retort, words ready to fly from his mouth - then, _he _stiffened. Her words seemed to sink in and all the anger abruptly drained from his face, as he stared at her a bit dumbly, blinking owlishly.

"Oh."

"_Oh_, indeed," Hermione said, sourly. The apple Danish that Harry had made was heavenly enough for her to feel a thrill of pleasure through her anger, disappointment, and hurt and she chose to focus on that, instead of the look Ron was giving her. "Again, not that you'll believe me, but I really _don't _know what Harry thinks Mrs. Tonks can contribute."

Ron didn't speak. Instead of settling at the table with her, he turned back toward the coffee pot and Hermione was quiet content ignore him as he fiddled with it, his back turned to her. When he settled a mug of coffee before her meekly, Hermione didn't so much as glance at it, taking another Danish for the plate.

"Look, Hermione, I - "

"_Don't_." Hermione interrupted in a clipped tone. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. I don't feel like arguing anymore - not that we should have been, in the first place."

Chastened and perhaps a bit embarrassed, Ron stared down at his coffee cup. "I only came here to ask you if you worked this weekend. Not to argue - "

"I work every weekend and you're aware of this." Hermione refused to let him start the mealy-mouth diffusion that always came after these outbursts of his. She simply wasn't interested in hearing it, for the umpteenth time. "How come?"

Ron sat up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders.

"Hermione, I want you to come to The Burrow this weekend for Sunday dinner. Mum will have it later, after you and George are done at the shop - but, it'll be special. I'd really like it if you'd come."

Hermione frowned slightly.

"What's so special about this weekend?"

Ron turned pink around the ears. "Er, Mum decided that since Ginny will be back from Hogwarts, it would be nice to have everyone around for Sunday dinner. It's been since last summer that we've all been together, she says."

Hermione made a thoughtful noise.

The last time everyone had been able to consistently attend one of Mrs. Weasley's Sunday luncheon was last summer. Funerals, the rebuilding of Hogwarts, the liberation of the Ministry for Magic - so much had happened last summer that had made The Burrow a place of refuge and respite for so many. The luncheons had been space in time where everyone could simply be together, enjoy Mrs. Weasley's fabulous cooking, and forget all that was happening outside in the wider Wizarding World.

She had missed times like that.

With a sigh, Hermione reached for the cup of coffee she had studiously ignored. As she took a sip, Ron seemed to relax and he even dared to let something of a smile tug at his mouth.

"How come it will be a dinner instead of a luncheon?" Hermione asked, continuing to sip at her coffee.

Ron was too casual as he shrugged, loftily. "Mum says, I suppose." He rose to his feet, finishing his cup of coffee, and snagging two more Danishes from the plate. "I meant it when I said I hadn't come to start an argument. I only came by to ask you to come to The Burrow this weekend. That's all. I - I'm sorry."

Hermione nodded quietly.

That was a part of the problem, as well. Ron was always apologetic, always sorry - but never sorry or apologetic enough to change or grow up.

"I'll be sure to talk to George about it well before Sunday." Hermione said, rising from her own chair and following Ron toward the door. "I'll be sure to let you know what he says and what time I'll be by The Burrow on Sunday, after work."

A few minutes later when Ron was gone and her flat was blessedly tired again, Hermione leaned against her closed and once-more warded door, tiredly.

She would crawl back into bed for a few hours, catch up on the rest and peace that had escaped her over the past two weeks of working tireless hours at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes - and, her head hurt as much as her heart, as her mind came back to her parents and what she and Harry had talked about last night.

While Ron hadn't asked or cared, not even after learning that the issue of her parents was the problem she was currently struggling with - Harry had woken up with it on his mind, determined to make it his next mission in life.

With all that Harry had going on, he loved and cared enough about her to realize that she now needed him just as he had needed her...Ron, however...

Hermione shook her head, disappointed.

Perhaps after she gotten a bit of rest, she wouldn't feel so sour toward him nor be so harsh on him. He _had _awakened her prematurely, started a fight, and then made her think of her parents - when spent most of the night trying _not _to think about them, failing miserably as she'd cried herself to sleep as she hadn't since she was a child.

Determined not to do the same this morning, Hermione settled into her bed with a yawn and stared longingly at the MagiWindow that presented that unthinkably beautiful view of Uluru Rock in the Outback of Australia.

Her parents might have looked upon the same monument as she looked upon every night before bed and every morning when she woke - perhaps they were looking upon it _now_, enjoying a summer holiday to the more scenic parts of the country that had been their home for nearly two years now.

With the war over with, nothing of Voldemort existing anymore, and a future without threat or Darkness seeming to be promised as of yesterday, Hermione knew her longing theories about her parents wouldn't be theories for too long.

Harry would help her find her parents and once they were found, Hermione was certain anything could be fixed from there.

Her faith in Harry and his ability to save people and make the world right again was an unknowing comfort to as she drifted back to sleep, dreams of the Outback of Australia and the startling green eyes already clouding filling her with peace and hope.

* * *

Harry couldn't believe the day he'd had at the Ministry.

However, with all of it behind him and nothing that he was going to deal with until the press conference that had been arranged for Sunday morning, Harry was now free to deal with the issue that had been preoccupying his mind all day.

The Grangers and their unknown whereabouts since Hermione had bewitched them.

A lustrous summer sunset made the grounds of Hogwarts look more beautiful than he could remember, as Harry appeared at the gates of the castle with a quiet pop of Apparition. Right as expected, a bobbing figure was becoming clear and clear as it approached the gate - and with a smile, Harry waved cheerily at Headmistress Minvera McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter, welcome back." Professor McGonagall said with a smile of her own. "I hope you're here for better circumstances today than you were yesterday."

Harry felt his own smile become strained as he tried not to flinch at the reminder. Yesterday, Hogwarts had been the last place he had traveled to make the notification to next of kin - and he'd saved it for last, on purpose. Both Madame Hooch and Rose Zeller had lost a spouse and a parent to Nott and his rampage and he had been helped along in sharing that news with them, by Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, her Deputy Headmaster.

This afternoon, he was here to see Professor Flitwick once more - but for something entirely different, thankfully.

"Professor Flitwick is expecting me, so I will say that today's visit should be much happier than yesterday." Harry looked at her sadly, as they made the brisk walk up the drive to the castle. "How are Madame Hooch and Rose doing after yesterday?"

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Rolanda handed in her retirement papers this morning and I can't blame her, but I am sad to see her go. I believe the decision is the right one for her, considering all of it. Miss Zeller, however, is in the Hospital Wing - sedated, mourning, in shock. Madame Pomfrey says it's expected of her, the poor girl."

Harry shook his head. Despite his best effort, the end of the era of Voldemort and his movement had come with a steep cost that hadn't been seen since the Final Battle, last summer. He would have been saddened and angry at only one death. _Fourteen _deaths in the space of twelve hours had simply left him numb and savagely satisfied at the news he had to share of Nott's fate.

"I've come from the Ministry, just now. If you'd like to pass the news along with either of them - Nott will be receiving the Kiss." Harry nodded fiercely at Professor McGonagall's raised brows. "His hearing was today, he was sentenced before lunch, and the Kiss - well, that will be taken care of by the weekend. Perhaps it will make them feel better, if anything can at this point..."

As they walked up the steps and entered the double doors that brought them into the Entrance Hall, Professor McGonagall patted his arm, affectionately.

"I'll be sure to pass the news along, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall reassured him.

A crow of happiness brought both their attentions to the Grand Staircase, bringing their conversation to a halt. Professor McGonagall had another smile for him, though it was far more reserved now that they were within the castle and the small group of students approached them.

Ginny Weasley had been coming down the stairs with a friend or two and had spotted him instantly. She practically threw herself into his arms, her lips finding his easily and with vigor.

The kiss was brief, short, and appropriate after not having seen each other for weeks, although Professor McGongall did pretend to eye them sternly.

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed with a sparkling smile. "What are you doing here? This is a surprise."

Harry blinked. "Oh, um - I was just here to have a meeting with Professor Flitwick. I didn't plan on this as a surprise."

Ginny stepped back, a flicker of hurt in her bright-brown eyes. "Oh. Oh, well, of course. I just thought - " Ginny shook her head, smiling once more though it wasn't as bright as before. "Can you stay after your meeting? Have dinner with me in the Great Hall?"

The sincere, longing look in her eyes made him uncomfortable, though Harry could remember a time when he did find it charming. He hadn't planned on staying at Hogwarts any longer than it took to talk with Professor Flitwick and he certainly had planned on seeing Ginny - let alone spending the evening with her at Hogwarts.

His primary focus now that he had a couple of days to himself would be Hermione and her parents - yet, it felt wrong and inappropriate to tell Ginny this, for whatever reason.

Instead, he simply told her the truth, no matter how much it would disappoint her.

"I'm actually expected at Andromeda's place to have dinner with her and Teddy. We agreed on this morning, before I knew I'd have to drop in to see Professor Flitwick this evening."

Ginny made a noise that he couldn't quite place, but simply nodded congenially.

"Fair enough." Ginny said, with a small sigh. Something seemed to occur to her and abruptly, she looked at Professor McGonagall. "Headmistress, would it be alright if Harry came by on Friday to watch me coaching?"

Harry opened his mouth, trying to make it clear that he didn't want to commit to such a promise when he hardly had any idea of what the next day would bring - but, Professor McGonagall was quicker, unfortunately.

"I don't see why not, Miss Weasley." The Headmistress looked between Harry and Ginny with a softness in her eyes that he did not miss. "I think that would be a fitting way to spend your final day at Hogwarts, on the Quidditch Pitch with Mr. Potter."

Harry was suddenly more uncomfortable than he'd been before, realizing with a bit of a shock why Professor McGonagall looked like that. He was sure she was remembering another Potter and another redhead Gryffindor Head Girl, on the Quidditch Pitch on the last day of term - and he didn't find any of the charm or sentiment in it that he supposed he should have.

"I'll let you get on to your meeting with Professor Flitwick," said Ginny, smiling with a renewed brilliance and leaning forward to peck him on the lips in farewell. "Thank you, Headmistress! I'll see you on Friday, Harry - be on the lookout for my owl."

Harry watched as Ginny and her friends continued on past them and into the Great Hall.

"Well, Mr. Potter, if Filius is expecting you, you'd better find your way to his office." Professor McGonagall patted his shoulder, affectionately, before saying in farewell: "I'm sure you know the way. Good evening, Mr. Potter."

Harry rubbed at his temples.

He would think about this later, just as he'd think about everything else that was piling on top of him. Right now, he was due to meet Professor Flitwick in the West Tower, on the seventh floor, and he didn't want to keep the gracious professor waiting.

If his brief letter urging Harry to come and speak with him in person was anything to go, perhaps Professor Flitwick had the answer he was looking for and it was simply too much to be put in a piece of owl post. It was the most hopeful thought he could come up with, the most encouraging approach he could take, considering the dubious and unknown possibilities that lay ahead.

Nothing about finding Mr. and Mrs. Granger promised to be easy, but Harry didn't have to think twice about whether or not it was worth his time or effort.

For Hermione, Harry never had to think twice about her worth or value or whether she deserved his time and best effort.

* * *

[**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Oh, those Weasleys and their assumptions! I wholeheartedly believe that Ron deciding without talking to Hermione about it is exactly how he would propose to Hermione, while I see Hermione being the type of woman who would want to thoroughly discuss such a step, plan for it, and then only accept it when she's comfortable and "ready" - and disaster would be imminent, with a formula like that. I feel that despite it being the "Good Ship" and canon, Ron and Hermione do not understand each other - as much as they are used to each other - and I think this is how a split would happen between the two of them, in a post-war world where they are adults and helping Harry save the world and Hogwarts are no longer enough to have in common to build a life together.

Harry and Ginny, however - I wanted to explore the grand assumption that Harry would be charmed by being an echo of his parents, instead of desiring his own identity in life. In canon, I believe that Ginny is a foregone conclusion as his mate, because who else would be able to put up with Harry, after all he's been through, except someone whom he doesn't have to explain his life to and is thoroughly used to him? After all, he describes Ginny as his "greatest comfort". Not to mention, Harry marrying into the Weasley family the natural completion for his character arc with the Weasley family. But, is that truly what he wants or who is best for him? Or, is that what he is most comfortable with and clings to for that reason, after a life of terror and discomfort?

Next chapter is coming soon, featuring Andromeda and Teddy! Thank you for the reviews and I welcome more!]


	5. Chapter V: The Truth About Consequences

[**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: I'm truly stunned and very thankful for the sheer number of alerts and follows this story has gotten. This is my first Harry/Hermione fic and I'm overwhelmed by the lovely response. Thank you!]

* * *

**CHAPTER V**: _The Truth About Consequences_

The last time he had been anywhere near Professor Flitwick's office, Harry had been astride a hippogriff with Hermione - rescuing Sirius from the Dementor's Kiss and securing Buckbeak's freedom along with it.

When he'd been bade entry after knocking respectfully on the smooth oak door, Harry felt a strange blend of distant recognition and familiar welcome, although it was the first time he'd been within the office proper. He glanced around impressed, as Professor Flitwick rose to his feet with a small, slightly strained smile, beckoning him to come in, thoughtfully.

"Mr. Potter, welcome. I'm happy you could honor the urgency of the situation and come right away." Professor Flitwick motioned to a pair of armchairs near the very same window that Harry remembered pulling Sirius through to freedom, years ago. "Please, have a seat. Can I offer you tea? Perhaps dinner, if you've not yet supped?"

Harry settled into the chair opposite from the professor. He was prepared to deny all courtesies, wanting to get straight down to business -

His stomach told on him with a pointed growling.

"Ah, well - perhaps a light dinner." Harry said with a bit of a grin. Professor Flitwick seemed neither amused nor unamused, distractedly scribbling something down on a piece of parchment and tapping it with his wand sharply. "I have had rather long day at the Ministry..."

Professor Flitwick nodded. "Dinner will be up shortly, rest assured. In the meantime, however...there is much to discuss about Miss Granger, Mr. Potter. Shall we get started?"

The ghost of a grin had faded and Harry sat up straighter.

"Yes, of course, Professor. I'm all ears, my undivided attention is yours."

Professor Flitwick sighed deeply, steepling his fingers before him pensively, his dark eyes more serious and grave than Harry could ever remember. Not even during the Battle of Hogwarts, when Harry had personally witnessed him soundly defeating elite Death Eaters like Yaxley and Dolohov and more - Harry had never seen the Charms Master look like this.

"Mr. Potter, I must begin with a very clear position on what you have shared with me about Miss Granger and her parents." Professor Flitwick looked at him firmly, maybe even a bit coldly. "It is unethical, inappropriate, and _criminal _what Miss Granger has done to her parents. I would be remiss as a Charms Master, if I did not address this truth before moving forward with anything else."

Harry was gobsmacked. "E-Excuse me?"

"From what I understand through our brief owl post exchange, Miss Granger employed the use of a restricted, Class-U cerebral charm on her non-magical parents without their consent. The use of _any _magic against a Muggle is an automatic Class-Z felony. This, however, well surpasses that - and, as a Charms Master, a wizard, and a _person_, I cannot condone what she has done at all." Professor Flitwick sat up straighter in his diminutive form seeming to be three times his actual size in that moment as he announced: "Not only do I not condone what Miss Granger has done, I _condemn _it."

Harry felt as though someone had walloped him in the stomach. All the air had left his body and in its place, a flare of righteous anger edge with the sting of confusion and betrayal swelled within him.

Of all the things that Harry had expected and been prepared for, it was not this.

Harry leaned forward sharply, glaring as he nearly yelled: "How dare you say something like that? You've no right to condemn her for anything she did in a war!"

"I say something like that, because it is the truth, Mr. Potter." Professor Flitwick said, simply. "There were other means of protection Mr. and Mrs. Granger other than the one she ultimately selected and chose to employ."

Harry glared. "Hermione did what she felt was best and what she had to do. She did what she needed to so that she could protect her parents. What else was she supposed to do, besides what she did?"

"Miss Granger could have asked for assistance from a qualified witch or wizard, to start with - "

"Hermione is qualified! She's the most brilliant witch I've ever known." Harry said holtly.

Professor Flitwick shook his head. "No one is denying the preternatural intelligence nor magical ability of Miss Granger, but the fact remains that she is not _qualified_. Neither of you returned to Hogwarts to complete your schooling. She never finished her basic magical education, let alone has she gone on to master the advanced skill and training that is provided in magic beyond Hogwarts. Whether you accept it or deny it, Miss Granger did not and does not have the mastery, skill, or knowledge of the very dangerous cerebral magic that she chose to use, for all that she had the _ability _to successfully cast it."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but found his words stuck in his throat.

That was an unfortunate truth, as much as he didn't want to admit it.

If Hermione had the mastery and the skill that Professor Flitwick spoke of, she wouldn't be in the agonizing situation she currently found herself in. She wouldn't have broken down last night and wept from her soul, if she had known what she was doing and known how to undo it. The fears of unforgiveness and resentment and estrangement were prominent, but they weren't the most crucial.

Above all, Hermione had wept and sobbed and been shaking with the fear that after what she had done to keep her mother and father safe, her very actions had been what would keep them from her forever -

And, if the direction of this conversation was telling of anything, it was that her deepest fear might have come true.

Harry sat back in his chair, heavily. "She had no choice. Hermione did what she had to do at the time, she made the best decision she could. Dumbledore had just been murdered by Snape. We weren't sure if the Order was compromised because we'd thought he'd turned his coat, there was nobody that could be trusted at the Ministry, and Hogwarts was closed down indefinitely, as far as we knew, then. Who was she supposed to turn to, with all of that happening?"

"There was the Order itself. I may not have been a member, for my own reasons, but I was an ally and a consultant." Professor Flitwick looked at Harry evenly. His dark eyes were piercing, as he continued: "From my scant knowledge, there many qualified witches and wizards at her disposal through the Order of the Phoenix of various magical disciplines and decades of experience. Instead, in spite of this and without allowing anyone the chance to see to the security and safety of her parents, Miss Granger decided to move forward with committing a crime and casting magic beyond her purview."

Harry glared. "It wasn't like that. She didn't decide to commit a crime - she decided to do what nobody else was doing and protect her parents as best she knew how."

Professor Flitwick looked over the rim of his glasses at Harry. "Are you certain that nobody else was doing anything to see to the security and safety of Miss Granger's parents? I find it difficult to believe that with the importance of Miss Granger to you and her status as a member of a targeted population, the Order of the Phoenix would leave her and her family's safety to chance."

Harry didn't answer. More so because he could _not _answer.

When he thought back to the summer after Dumbledore had been murdered, so very much had been going on and nothing that wasn't Voldemort and his Horcruxes had truly been in Harry's awareness. He hadn't even considered what Professor Flitwick was suggesting.

He hadn't once questioned her answer or thought to dig deeper, because it was _Hermione_. As brilliant and capable as she was, Harry hadn't once considered that her plan could be dangerous or that she should have left it in the hands of an adult that was qualified and trained -

Until now.

Harry swallowed thickly, somehow feeling disloyal to Hermione for seeing the reason in what Professor Flitwick was saying. Almost determinedly, his mind racing and his stomach feeling unsettled, Harry folded his arms across his chest and stared across the table at his old Charms Professor.

"Hermione knows what was best for her parents above anyone, I think. She'd never hurt them and everything she did was to protect them." Harry frowned, adding: "It is unfair of you to condemn her, when you have no idea what she's going through because of this. How she's suffering because of making this choice in a time of war, when she felt she had no other choices."

"I have all the idea in the world of what she's going through and how she's suffering, Mr. Potter," Professor Flitwick said, crisply. "It is likely the same as what your mother went through after she did what she thought was best for your grandparents, much like Miss Granger has."

Harry was so startled, his arms unfolded themselves and he sat up straight.

"My mum? My mum did the same thing that Hermione did, in the last war?"

"Indeed, she did." Professor Flitwick removed his glasses, rubbing at his eyes with a small, weary hand. "Mr. Potter, my vehemence and condemnation is not a personal judgement or slight against Miss Granger. You are laboring under the false belief that I am looking at this situation from a pedestal of righteousness - but, instead, it is from a place of _experience_. I did not say I thought Miss Granger was wrong or that I didn't understand. Times of war - especially an unprecendented war such as what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named curated twice over - calls for decisions, actions, and judgement calls that do not apply in peacetime. However, after my experience with Lily...I simply cannot ever condone again the use of this charm upon anyone, let alone Muggles, whether at war or at peace."

Harry was once again struck speechless.

He had never imagined or dreamed that his mother had once long ago been in the same position as Hermione had been, faced the same desperation, or taken the same risky path that lead to such bone-deep anguish, fear, and regret. He knew, of course, that his grandparents had been Muggles, for Lily had been Muggleborn.

He had simply never thought about what it _meant_, before now.

"I never knew much about my mum," said Harry quietly, removing his own glasses and cleaning them, for something to do with his slightly trembling hands. "I still don't, honestly, and there aren't many left from her days who could tell me about her. I don't know anything at all about my grandparents, not even their names..." Harry shook his head, as if clearing it. "So, my mum did what Hermione did. What was your experience with my mum? What happened to make you feel so - _strongly _\- about this?"

Professor Flitwick took his time in answering, his eyes still closed and his forehead puckered with thought. The light dinner of stew and salad that had been ordered when Harry arrived appeared just as Professor Flitwick opened his eyes, but neither Harry or the Charms Master were interested in eating.

"Lily Potter was a gifted witch, who had any number of opportunities and offers at her hand, upon finishing Hogwarts. However, instead of accepting them - she chose, instead, to approach me in regards to a Charms Mistress Apprenticeship, in the fall of 1978." Professor Flitwick smiled slightly, the gesture fleeting, as he added: "I do not accept apprentices easily and often, my answer is no. Lily did not take no for an answer and persisted, quite mightily. Not unusual for a Gryffindor, but with Lily...it was different. Her persistence came from a different place, though I did not see it intitally."

Harry was riveted.

He knew that his parents were both quite young when they died, likely not having a chance to start on any particular path or career before their deaths. According to their gravestones, they'd only been twenty-one the night they'd been murdered - a scant couple of years older than he was now. However, Harry had often wondered what they would have done with their lives, what their dreams and ambitions were for their life's work, who they would have become, if they'd ever been given the time and ability to do so.

Lily had been working on becoming a Charms Mistress before she'd died.

That was her ambition, her career, her life's work. With a few words, Professor Flitwick had given shape and reality and definition to the bloodless Madonna figure he'd known as his mother, the echo of the witch he'd heard in his mind, the memory of someone he'd never known but loved desperately and mightily.

Eagerly, without realizing it, Harry leaned forward, aching to hear whatever Professor Flitwick had to share further.

"Lily was determined to become a Charms Mistress, though I must say, she was better suited for the disciplines of Potions or Herbology." Professor Flitiwck stiffened slightly, as he added: "Though, please don't take my opinion as a slight against her in the least. As a Charms Master, I simply know who has it in them to achieve Mastery and who is simply a well-studied hand at a core magical discipline. Lily was the latter, though it doesn't take away from her in the slightest."

Harry shook his head, reassuringly. "No, no - that's not how I took it at all. That's fair to say, if it was the truth." Harry looked at Professor Flitwick searchingly, asking a touch hungrily: "So, then what? She comes to you, determined to become your apprentice, you don't think she would do well at it...and then?"

Professor Flitwick smiled sadly. "Then, against my better judgement, I agreed after a year of tenacity unlike that which I only see in Hufflepuffs. It is one of the choices I regret deeply to this day, not because of Lily herself, but because of the road it led her down."

A fair bit of his enthusiasm was abruptly crushed, by a spike of dread. That didn't sound promising, at all.

"The road it lead her down?" echoed Harry, apprehensively. "What...what does that mean?"

"It means that Lily pursued a Charms Apprenticeship under false pretenses, Mr. Potter," revealed Professor Flitwick, heavily. "Unsuited to the disicpline and with ulterior motives, Lily was determined to get an apprenticeship with a Master of my caliber because she had a singular goal in mind - and it was not becoming a Charms Mistress."

Harry swallowed thickly. This certainly took a bit of the dazzle and awe from his initial amazement in learning of what he'd never had the chance to know about his mother. Unwittingly, an echo from years ago rang out in his mind, Professor Slughorn pompously declaring that Lily Potter would have made an excellent Slytherin, a fine member of his own House - and Harry was suddenly uncomfortable.

"What was that goal?" asked Harry reluctantly. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear, but another part of him did want to hear, just as desperately as he didn't.

"To bewitch her entire family so thoroughly they had never known that she had ever existed nor knew of magic, thus seperating herself from the world of her birth forever, without a trace." Professor Flitwick revealed, his bottom lip trembling as an incredibly complicated look overcame his face.

If Professor Flitwick didn't look on the verge of tears, then Harry would have found his answer to be disappointing and rather anticlimatic. Instead, the dread creeping down his spine thickened until he felt uncomfortable, worried - and afraid.

"I had no idea at the time, of course, what I was helping to her to accomplish. Her thesis was to be in cerebral charmwork, her focus undecided as the first three years of an apprenticeship is merely tutelage and scholarship - but, that was all she believed she needed to do what she'd set out to do." Professor Flitwick closed his eyes once more, bowing his head sadly. "Merlin forgive me, if I had known, I would have done all I could to stop her - "

"Professor, what happened?" interrupted Harry, not caring about being rude or pushy. "What happened when my mum cast that charm on her parents like Hermione did?"

Professor Flitwick had tears coming from his dark eyes when he opened them once more, true anguish on his face as he sobbed out the last answer that Harry had ever expected.

"Their minds could not handle magic and were utterly destroyed under the power and strength of the charm that Lily cast upon them." Professor Flitwick wept. "Mr. and Mrs. Evans gave birth to a witch, but they were not magic themselves! Mr. Evans had a massive stroke within a week of being under the enchantment, Mrs. Evans had a brain anyeurism within three months, and for all that she was trying to protect them...oh, Harry..."

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands, sobbing in earnest, as Harry found himself feeling numb and cold all over.

"She killed them." Harry said, hollowly. "For all that she was trying to protect them, Mum killed her parents because she used magic on them...and, if Hermione used the same magic, the same charm..."

Harry couldn't say it, the words getting stuck in his throat. He didn't need to, however.

For all that Hermione had tried to protect her parents, because they were Muggles, because they'd had powerful and complex magic deeply impact their minds -

It was likely that she had killed them, just as surely as she'd tried to protect them.

* * *

"Hermione? Are you ready come through?"

Hermione sprayed one last spritz of rosewater on herself, before gathering her clutch and heading towards her fireplace. In a thicket of emerald-green flames, Harry's face floated in the magical fire flickering in the hearth. Hermione nodded, as she slipped into her flats and motioned for him to move aside from the hearth.

"Change of plans is why I'm fire-calling," said Harry, his forestalling hand briefly joining his face in the flames. "Instead of us going to Andromeda's, we'll have dinner at Number Twelve, instead."

Hermione was surprised by this, but nodded nonetheless. "Very well, then. Move aside. I'll be through in just a second."

Harry disappeared from the flames, ending the fire-call and allowing the Floo-fire to grow high enough in the hearth for Hermione to travel through. A generous pinch of Floo powder made the fire blaze strongly and with a clear pronouncement, Hermione was through the fire and had arrived at Number Twelve.

In the past, the only means of getting into the derelict, gloomy townhouse had been to enter through the front door. There had been no registered Floo address and Apparition originating from outside of the home wasn't possible, so warily sneaking past Mrs. Black's screeching portrait had been the only unfortunate option.

Hermione was immensely glad that these days, Harry allowed an off-grid Floo connection to welcome the rare guest in the drawing room.

With a strained smile, Harry rose to his feet at her entrance, his arms full of a squealing Teddy Lupin.

"There she is, Moonlet. Say hello to Miney."

Hermione rolled her eyes, groaning as Teddy enthusiastically shouted hello to her. She had been diligently trying to teach him how to say her name properly when she had the chance to see him, but it was a futile effort. The year-old baby was determined that her name was _Miney _and so pleased they all were with his ability to speak so early, nobody much corrected him.

With clumsy enthusiasm, Teddy toddled over to her outstretched arms. Hermione beamed as she scooped Teddy up, peppering his face with little kisses of hello. So delighted he was, Teddy squinted his eyes in determination - and, suddenly, he had a head full of her very own rebellious curls.

"Oh, my. Your hair is as long as you, Grandson," a cultured and amused voice said, from the open double doors of the drawing room. "I suppose you'll have join me at my beautiwitch appointments, if that's your new style from now on..."

Hermione squeezed Teddy just a little tighter, as Andromeda Tonks entered the drawing room. Her chest tightened as it always did, a cinch of iron around her chest that stole her breath viciously.

As long as she lived, Hermione would never forget the face of Bellatrix Lestrange, as the demented witch had loomed over her and tortured her on the floor of Malfoy Manor. She could still feel the heat of the spells that had missed her by a hair as Bellatrix had duelled herself, Ginny, and Luna, _all at once_. Out of all the enemies that she'd braved and encountered during the war, Bellatrix was the one who'd evoked true terror in her - and there were times when Hermione believed she was more terrified of the memory of Bellatrix than she'd even be by the memory of Voldemort.

Her lasting terror of Bellatrix had created a special, complicated anxiety when it came to Andromeda - for, Andromeda shared the same face as Bellatrix, the sisters having been twins and identical beyond the superficial differences.

"Hermione dear!" Andromeda sounded nothing like her sister, her voice honeyed and glowing with true affection. "So lovely to see you, darling. We've missed you at our family dinners, lately."

Hermione smiled, hoping her strain didn't show. As always, once Andromeda began talking, it was easier to seperate her from her demented twin. The sunset-orange, couture Muggle pantsuit and stiletto heels that Andromeda wore was nothing that Bellatrix would have touched with a ten-foot wand, while the coiffed, copper-brown hair was distinctly unlike the knotted, wild masses of dark, dank hair that had twirled around Bellatrix like smoke when Hermione had duelled her. If Hermione hadn't known who Andromeda was, it would have been easy to assume she was a posh socialite - not a witch, at all.

"It's lovely to see you, as well, Mrs. Tonks." Hermione let Teddy down as he wiggled insistently, her smile becoming more genuine as Teddy leapt into his grandmother's arms, his hair a violent shade of purple again. "I thought I'd be joining you at your house tonight, but according to Harry, plans have changed."

"Yes, we thought Number Twelve could serve us better than The Hidden Garden tonight," Andromeda said, absently kissing Teddy's chubby cheek. "Harry explained to me your dilemma with your parents. If you'll welcome the assistance, I'd be happy to do what I can to help."

"I've went and talked to Professor Flitwick, as well, earlier in the evening," Harry shared quietly, on the heels of Andromeda's gentle offer. "Between what I learned and what Andromeda knows, there's a lot to talk about - but, we think we can figure something out for your mum and dad."

Hermione looked between Harry and Andromeda, anxiously.

The moment she'd been longing for had arrived and strangely enough, Hermione wasn't sure if she was ready. For years, she had drawn a clear line between her magical life and her mundane life. Hogwarts had been the most dangerous experience of her life, had almost gotten her killed several times over before she'd even become an adult. As it was now, at eighteen, she'd endured experiences and challenges that her parents had no idea of - and, if the enchantment she'd placed on them could be lifted, that would no longer be true.

The reversal of the enchantment meant that she had to tell her parents everything, for all she'd been through had culminated in her choice to bewitch them.

Once she told them the truth, once she laid it all bare, their response would determine what happened next -

And, perhaps, that was what she was most afraid of.

What would come next, once her parents knew the truth and knew what she'd done to them.

"We're just going to talk tonight, darling," said Andromeda, coming to stand beside her. Teddy was dozing on her shoulder, as she reached out and touched Hermione's cheek affectionately, her soft and elegant hand cool and reassuring. "As Harry said, we have a lot to talk about. We'll talk and discuss it all thoroughly, then whatever you decide is what we'll go forward with. We'll see you through this, Harry and I, rest assured."

Hermione blinked against the warm tears welling in her eyes.

The gentle pressure against her cheek was steadying, comforting. Moments like this were the true reminder and reassurance that for all that Andromeda could not help looking like her accursed sister, she was all her own person.

Hermione touched Andromeda's hand in gratitude. The beaming smile that Andromeda gave her was enough to pull a genuine smile from Hermione.

Andromeda excused herself with a quiet explanation about putting Teddy down to sleep in the nursery Harry had for him, here at Number Twelve. When Andromeda and Teddy were gone from the drawing room, Harry came to stand before her, a deep and burning look in his eyes.

"You're not alone in this, Hermione. Just as Andromeda said - we'll see you through this. Whatever happens next, we're in this together."

* * *

[**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: No worries or fears, this will be a Happily Ever After. Despite what tension and angst plot points call for, Hermione and Harry will have a happy ending and will be together.

I wanted to explore the parallels between Lily and Hermione, which are more prominent than the ones between Lily and Ginny, in my opinion. I don't think that's been emphasized enough and it is a really interesting dynamic to explore, two important Muggleborn Gryffindors that were essential to both of Voldemort's downfalls and what it must have meant to be a Muggleborn in this position. As well, I wanted to explore the unfortunate consequences a Muggleborn can face from exposing their Muggle loved ones to magic so intimately, and the price one may potentially pay by doing so - and since Hermione won't be having an unhappy ending, Lily is the lens I chose to do this.

There is a bit more angst ahead, as I get into the traumas and scars left from the war and we really start to get into why Harry and Hermione may not want a future in Wizarding Britain at all.

Thank you endlessly for the reviews, the eager PMs asking for updates, and the stunning number of follows and favorites! I'm really inspired to keep going and more updates will be coming swiftly.]


	6. Chapter VI: Before You Can Hope

**CHAPTER VI**: _Before You Can Hope_

Harry should have been relaxed and at peace, as Kreacher served the port wine with a slice of German chocolate cake for afters.

The meal he had enjoyed with Andromeda and Hermione had been the first time he'd truly enjoyed himself in months. There was no more war, no more Death Eaters to be on the hunt for, the Ministry was set to move forward with ending the suspension of the government and lifting martial law. There was a future to look forward to now, a life that could be fully embraced and lived however he chose - and, for the first time in living memory, Harry should have been able to say that he was happy and at peace.

He wasn't.

Not when Hermione sat across from him at the table, anxiously picking at her slice of cake and already finished with her first glass of port.

They had all been a bit preoccupied with the coming conversation that would have to be had, and now, that moment had arrived.

Nervously, Harry looked toward Andromeda.

While he had what he learned from Professor Flitwick had to be shared, Andromeda also had a fair bit to say and offer, as well. He hoped that she would go first and give him time to prepare for the raw truth he had to offer Hermione.

Andromeda read his expression with ease. With affectionate reassurance, Andromeda patted his hand, and turned towards Hermione.

"If you're ready to discuss, Hermione dear - I have information to share with you, based upon what Harry has shared with me," said Andromeda, her voice soft and kind and full of the warmth that instantly put one at ease.

Hermione looked her, her face pale and somewhat pinched.

"I'm both ready and not ready at all," Hermione confessed with a bit of wobble in her voice. "It's been two years and when the war didn't end like we thought it would...it seemed like the day would never come where I'd be able to get my parents back. I spent so much time wishing for the day. However, now that it's here...I simply have no idea what to do. I don't know what to do or how to feel..."

Andromeda reached over and clasped Hermione's hand, with the same affectionate pressure as she had for Harry.

"Well then, let's start there, with your options," Andromeda declared, encouragingly. "There are a few and I want to lay them out clearly, so you can make the best choice going forward."

Hermione made a miserable sound that pained Harry to hear.

"If I'd made the right choice _to start with_, I wouldn't need any options," she said quietly, and Andromeda tutted.

"What is done is done and what we're focused on is a solution that can move you past what is done," said Andromeda in a voice that brooked little argument. "This leads me to my first suggestion as to a solution: You are allowed to leave you parents as they are, still enchanted and unknowing of our world or you."

Harry choked on a bit of cake, not expecting this suggestion at all and more than a little disturbed by what Andromeda was suggesting. Hermione hadn't been either, her face torn between shock and offense.

Andromeda held up a delicate hand, peaceably. "Before you begin with an outburst of Gryffindor indignation, please, allow me to explain."

Harry cleared his throat a couple of times, taking a sip of water to help, but he couldn't help but grin a little.

All of his sour experiences with Slytherins had prepared Harry to be at odds with Tonks's mum - but, surprisingly, Andromeda was nothing like he had come to know Slytherins to be, thus far. It didn't mean there weren't still moments when it seemed to jump out of her and quiet thoroughly rub them the wrong way.

This could have been one of those times, but Andromeda wasn't allowing the knee-jerk reaction to settle negatively and began explaining at once.

"I understand why you wouldn't and I'm not sure I would encourage it, but it is a viable solution." Andromeda tilted her head, curiously. "Tell me, Hermione dear - who were your parents before you gave them their enchanted identities? What was your life like with them, before you made them forget you existed?"

Hermione appeared a bit startled to be asked this question. Harry was, as well - but only because he'd never thought to ask it himself. Certainly, he knew of the Drs. Granger and understood they were dentists. However, he didn't know much beyond that.

Perhaps he supposed that because he hated speaking of his own Muggle upbringing, strictly because of the Dursleys and how utterly miserable his entire life had been with them...everyone else felt the same about their own non-magical life outside of the Wizarding World. Hermione certainly didn't talk much about her Muggle life, the life she still had outside of the Wizarding World.

But, did she not talk about her Muggle life because it was unpleasant and not much to talk about? Or, was it simply because nobody had cared to ask?

Harry listened avidly, as Hermione finally found her voice to respond.

"My parents are wonderful, have given me the best of everything, and I promise, I do love them dearly, but...we aren't of the same worlds anymore. I suppose when it comes down to it...my parents don't understand me. They love me, but they don't understand me and mostly, everything is a series of disagreements, always has been." Hermione seemed to relieved and guilty in saying this. Andromeda encouraged her to continue with an open and kind expression. "I know they're proud of achievements that they can understand, like becoming prefect or high marks. However...they never seemed quite pleased that I was a witch. My mother was against me attending Hogwarts at all, but my father - well, I think he was afraid of me and my magic, a bit. He didn't want to see me go, but was relieved that someone other than he and Mother would be responsible for training my magic. One of the last conversations we had was at Christmas, in my sixth-year. Their expectation was that I'd attend Muggle university after Hogwarts and had already begun planning for it, since seventh-year was to be my last. They thought Hogwarts was temporary to train me as a witch and so I could understand my power. But, they felt I should come back to the Muggle World after Hogwarts - they thought I'd be done with the Wizarding World."

Hermione looked between Harry and Andromeda desperately, her eyes damp with tears as she said, a touch beseechingly: "I'm a witch. I was born to Muggles, yes, but _I am a witch_. The Wizarding World is where I belong. Returning back to the Muggle World is...unthinkable, after finding where I belong and where I'm meant to be. They didn't understand that. They didn't accept it - Mother and Daddy _wouldn't _accept it."

Andromeda made an understanding noise, but Harry was surprised.

For him, his Muggle relatives relished the opportunity to be rid of him. Any moment he spent in their Muggle home as a wizard was poison to the Dursleys and when Harry had seen them for the last time, the summer that Dumbledore had died - there wasn't a question or doubt that he'd never return to the Muggle World ever again. Once he was seventeen, Harry had left the Muggle World and returned to his true world, the world he was born into: the British Wizarding World.

Knowing that he'd been born into the Wizarding World and had only been forced to spend his childhood in the Muggle World - perhaps that was the difference.

He'd never imagined that this was a possibility for those who'd been raised and only known the Muggle World - the Muggle-borns, not the Muggle-raised.

It didn't even enter his mind that there could be parents or guardians that were the opposite of the Dursleys: gracious in allowing their child to attend and learn how to train their magic, but didn't believe in them becoming witches or wizards because they wanted them to come back to the Muggle World.

"Ted's parents were much the same," Andromeda shared, an ache in her voice for her late husband. "We eloped when I found out I was pregnant with Dora, which his parents didn't mind much. They'd married themselves at twenty, for much the same reasons, and mostly, they were charmed that we were going to make them grandparents again. I believe the misunderstanding came through when Ted and I were on our feet and were making plans to move out, start our lives together - but, in the Wizarding World, instead."

Andromeda breathed out a watery sigh. "Sometimes, I wonder if we'd listen to them, whether any of this would have happened." Gracefully, Andromeda wiped at the tear that escaped her eye, as she continued: "Our marriage caused a great scandal, you see, and there was rumors of a civil war coming, because of the very issue of Blood Status. I was young, pregnant, and afraid, so of course I saw the Muggle World as our refuge. I believed, however, that the scandal would die down and we could return, soon enough."

There was a fond, kindred understanding, as Andromeda grapsed Hermione's hand with both hands and knowingly declared through the dampness of her soft tears: "Much like dearest Hermione, I couldn't fathom the Muggle World being my primary world. The Wizarding World was my world - Ted's world, too - and I refused to accept that I had no future life in it."

Despite having heard this origin story before, Harry felt a terrible guilt spring up in his chest, as always, whenever Andromeda spoke of Tonks or her dad.

Perhaps if he'd defeated Voldemort sooner, neither Tonks nor her dad would have died and Andromeda would still have her husband and daughter, Teddy would still have his mum and his granddad and his dad, too...

Before the guilt could overwhelm him, Harry gently broke into the conversation, asking:

"What did Mr. Tonks do for a living?" asked Harry, curiously, respectfully. "Was that a part of the reason that Mr. and Mrs. Tonks - the elders, of course - were against Mr. Tonks becoming a part of the Wizarding World?"

Andromeda smiled, though it was definitely watery. "Ted was a journalist. His parents were of the mind that he'd go to Muggle university, get a job with a Muggle broadcoasting company, and be a news reporter. Perhaps one day he'd have his own paper. They didn't disagree with his dreams, they simply disagreed with the decision Ted made to do so in the Wizarding World, as a wizard."

Hermione made a noise of deep knowing and sympathy for the late Muggleborn wizard she'd never known. "My parents are - were - like that, too." She breathed a sad little sigh, adding in a small voice: "I'd always talk to them about the different career paths I could choose from, especially after career counseling in fifth-year. They weren't pleased and didn't think it was good enough. Eventually I stopped sharing...and maybe that's what made them think I wasn't of the mind anymore to stay a witch and become a part of the Wizarding World."

Andromeda nodded in understanding. "It's a common problem for those of Muggle birth and not an easy solution. However, you have it easier than most. I'm certain you love your parents and you feel obligated to restore their memories - but, what if you chose not to? What if you chose to make this an opportunity to make a clean break with the Muggle World and be allowed to move forward with your life, fully as a witch and a British Wizarding citizenship?"

Hermione blinked owlishly. She appeared to struggle for words, but Andromeda patted her hand squeezed her hand reassuringly, once more.

"Don't answer now. I wouldn't believe any answer you had right now as your true answer, because you haven't had the time to think about it." Andromeda declared. "That particular path isn't the only way to go about it or even the recommended way to go about it, of course."

"What else is there besides that?" asked Hermione in a tremulous voice. It appeared that she had already begun to consider the implications and were quite rapidly being crushed by the weight of them.

Harry reached for Hermione's other hand from across the table, as tears fell from her eyes.

He couldn't imagine what she was feeling right now.

His parents had been beyond reach to him always, gone before he'd ever known them or spoken to them. While Harry had no problems settling nicely into the Wizarding World, returning to the world of his birth and the place he would have never been removed from, if it hadn't been for Lord Voldemort - but, that wasn't the case for Hermione.

She genuinely _did _have to choose between the world of her birth, her native Muggle World, the world of her family and the only world she'd ever known until receiving her Hogwarts letter...or, the world she's grown into.

The Wizarding World, where it was natural for a witch to be and belong.

"Well - alright, that's one solution, but I don't think that's the best solution," offered Harry on behalf of Hermione, understanding her quiet sob for what it was. "What else is there?" he asked of Andromeda.

Andromeda leaned back in her chair, her damp eyes looking upon Hermione thoughtfully.

"Another viable solution allows you to clear your conscious and do what you are likely to think is noble: locate your parents and lift the enchantment. However, there are many avenues to this," Andromeda warned. "It will all be out of your control, Hermione dear, and I wonder if it is worth the additional trauma and uncertainty to do so."

Harry frowned slightly, as Hermione sobbed once more.

"What could be bad about lifting the enchantment?" demanded Harry. What he had to share with Hermione echoed around in his mind heavily and he didn't appreciate the cast of shadow over his only hope - the Grangers were still alive, well, and able to be located. "I mean, honestly - that isn't right at all to leave them as they are, when there is no longer a reason for it. Isn't locating her parents and lifting the enchantment the only truly right thing to do?"

Andromeda shook her head in solemn disagreement.

"Let's say that lifting the enchantment is the only option - the consequences of that option may not be able to be something that Hermione could live with. Nor should she be forced to, if there is the opportunity available for a clean break, due to circumstance and opportunity that others in her situation may not ever have." Andromeda looked at the sniffling Hermione, shaking her head once more. "Perhaps after all of this, dearest Hermione deserves peace. What if lifting the enchantment doesn't bring peace?"

Hermione looked much like a pained deer, staring apprehensively at Andromeda and her uncomfortable question.

"What does that mean?" asked Harry, warily. "What are you thinking will happen?"

"Hermione lifts the enchantment, explains what has happened to make such an action necessary - and they're angry and betrayed that she took away their choice in the matter. They choose to deliberately continue their lives as a childless couple in another part of the world, because they could likely feel as though their much more powerful daughter stole their lives." Andromeda gave Hermione a sympathetic look, but still added a raw truth: "They may likely never trust you again. They might be resentful and afraid of you. Hermione dear, you may forever be estranged from your parents as if you never lifted the enchantment - but, this would be their choice, because now, they _know_."

Harry swallowed against the tightness in his own throat, as Hermione dropped her head onto their intertwined hands and sobbed, deeply.

This was what she'd explicitly been afraid of. What she'd tearfully confessed to him last night was her deepest fear - and, hearing it so matter-of-factly from another person only seemed to make her worst nightmare into a reality. Harry felt a surge of deep emotion, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He wished there was something he could do about this, as he'd been able to do something about Voldemort. Harry almost couldn't believe that ridding the world of Voldemort had been more simple and straightforward than the pain that his best friend was being crushed under, as an impossible dilemma hung over her head.

Harry had never seen Hermione so shaken or so broken. In all their years, through stones and possessions and escaped prisoners and dragons and all-out war - Hermione had been brave, a pillar of strength, and the one to depend on in moments of darkness and crises. That didn't seem the case now.

Something began to ache in his chest as he continued to hold steadfast to her hands, wanting her to know that he was there and present for her as much she had unfailingly been for him, always.

Both he and Andromeda allowed Hermione the spell of crying she clearly needed, quietly and patiently waiting until she felt they could go on with their discussion. When Hermione lifted her head from the table, her eyes hollow with pain, but a determined set to her face.

"I suppose I always knew that was as likely a chance as any. I can't even say that it'd be unfair of them, because - well, how I feel, if I was in their position?" Hermione said thickly. Miserably, she sighed. "That's the very worst outcome of it, laid bare, then."

Harry closed his eyes, guiltily, as Andromeda shook her head, sympathetically.

"I'm afraid there is another outcome that's far worse than the one I just proposed, dearest girl." Andromeda looked upon Hermione, her eyes full of glassy tears. "I don't know if you've been able to bring yourself to consider it, but it is just as likely..."

Harry steeled himself. Andromeda had been gracious enough to open the discussion and give him time to brace himself - but, his moment had arrived. It was only right that she know what he had learned on her behalf and help her understand the possible future she faced.

"Hermione, I have to tell you about my visit with Professor Flitwick and what I learned about the enchantment that you used." Harry squeezed her hands a little tighter, locking eyes with her and hoping she could see how much he did want to hurt her but had to be honest with her.

"You didn't have to do that, Harry. But, thank you." Hermione tried to smile but her mouth was too weighted with sorrow. "Professor Flitwick was at the top of my list to speak with, as soon as the war was truly over and this day had come."

Harry couldn't smile, his heart too heavy to even think of it. Hermione noticed.

There was anything in the world that Harry would give to not have to share this with her.

He wished that the space between them could be bridged as it was and he could hold her close to him, just as he did last night. There hadn't been anything he could do about her pain nor could he save her from the reason for her heartbroken cries, but he'd felt able to protect her and comfort her when she'd been in his arms. Harry had _liked _that feeling and found it more aching that right now, he couldn't seem to do so.

"Harry, what did Professor Flitwick have to say?" Hermione asked tremulously. "Tell me."

Harry inhaled deeply, prepared for anything after he told her what he now wished he didn't know himself.

Then, he shared with Hermione what he'd learned from the Charms Master, the tragedy and the promise in what lay on the other side of the enchantment she had used in a desperate attempt to protect her parents from the unthinkable.

* * *

[**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: More mirrors between Hermione and Lily. According to Petunia, Mr. and Mrs. Evans were thrilled to have a witch in the family - but I can't imagine that ALL Muggle families are like this. Surely, there are Muggles who are like I'm characterizing the Grangers (and the Tonkses) to be: hesitant of magic but willing to allow their child to do what's best, even if they don't like or understand it. Besides the meta explanation of the Grangers' minimal presence in canon being because the Weasleys' were so centered...I thought this was an interesting way to explore why Hermione hardly goes home and doesn't speak much on her parents, her home life, or anything about who she is when she isn't in the Wizarding World. What's the fun in having a character who lives between worlds like Hermione, if that's not thoroughly explored, the good and bad?

Harry's feelings are budding, but Hermione doesn't quite notice yet. We're getting there!

Next chapter, the full explanation for this tertiary plot about Lily gets explained and wrapped up. I know it is a rather harsh characterization, but I hope next chapter makes it clear I'm not trying to villianize her or deconstruct her character. Don't focus too much on this, because this is a plot point - it isn't the heart of the story or even a subplot itself. Just a plot point to enrich Hermione's plot with her parents and will be resolved within the next chapter or two, without having a massive impact on the main plot.

Thank you again for all the reviews, follows, and favorites! This is a wondrous response and I'm so happy that so many are captivated by my little tale!]


	7. Chapter VII: Temporia

[**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: I am stunned by the response this story is getting and very, very touched that so many are enjoying this. Thank you, immensely!]

* * *

**Chapter VII**: _Temporia_

"Hermione, when I talked to Professor Flitwick earlier, he told me - he said - he - "

Hermione braced herself, holding onto his warm, calloused hands tightly enough to cut off the circulation.

His striking jade-and-peridot eyes were catching the light of the fireplace, but seemed to be burning with an intensity that had nothing to do with the warm glow of the hearth. A chill snaked down her spine. There was no telling what it was that Harry was about to share with her, what he'd learned when he'd taken it upon himself to seek out Professor Flitwick on her behalf.

She waited, as Harry kept stumbling over his words. He seemed to struggle with something for a brief moment, before sighing and looking at her, baldly.

"Professor Flitwick told me that my mum was his Charms Apprentice, when she finished Hogwarts. She was apart of the Order of the Phoenix after Hogwarts, too. Her Charms Apprenticeship is what she contributed to the original Order, and it made her a target - her family, too. She was Muggleborn, so her family were Muggles and she felt that she had to protect them." Harry stared at her significantly, as he added: "Professor Flitwick told me that Mum had a lot in common with you, Hermione. More than you think."

Hermione blinked.

Mrs. Potter was not what she expected Harry had learned about from his visit to Professor Flitwick.

Nor would she have ever imagined that she compared to a witch as honorable and historical as Lily Potter had been.

Certainly, there were points of likeness between herself and Mrs. Potter. She had been born to Muggles as Mrs. Potter had, they had both Sorted into Gryffindor House, and they'd each been involved significantly in both of Voldemort's wars through their loyalty to the Order of the Phoenix. That was where it stopped, as far as Hermione thought. Beyond those superficial traits, Hermione couldn't imagine herself in the same realm as Mrs. Potter.

Mrs. Potter had been _powerful_.

Powerful enough to make history with her magic and do the impossible. Mrs. Potter's magic had protected Harry's life as nobody had seen done before. The magic she possessed had been remarkable enough to keep him protected over a decade _after _death, when ordinarily, most spellcasting was broken after the caster's death. Harry would have not survived any of what he had and been able to stand undefeated by Voldemort, if Lily Potter hadn't used her magic to do what had never been done before - protect her son from the certain death and block the power of the Killing Curse.

No matter how much she read, how much she practiced, how much she memorized, Hermione couldn't imagine she'd ever be as powerful as _that_.

Only her son seemed to be as powerful as Mrs. Potter had been and Hermione didn't understand how she equaled or could be compared to the witch Mrs. Potter must have been before her untimely death.

Harry seemed unsatisifed at her reaction. As if he'd made what he knew clear and she was not making the connection as quickly as she should have. He began to sound somewhat strained, as she voiced her hesitant confusion and he was made to elaborate.

"Back in the First War, Mum was afraid for her parents, because my grandparents were Muggles. From what I'm told, they were very pleased that she was a witch. They supported my mum so much in being a witch, they knew a lot more about the Wizarding World than it was safer for a Muggle to know at that time." Harry swallowed thickly, gripping her hands more securely than ever, as he revealed: "Mum decided that in order to keep them safe, she would bewitch them so that they never knew of her - then, she and my dad would go into hiding in the Wizarding World. The enchantment was supposed to minimize any risk to her parents and let her fight the First War without having to be afraid for their safety."

Hermione sat back in her chair, a bit stunned. Her mind was spinning, as Harry eyed her carefully, never once letting go of her hands.

She now understood.

A spark of hope flared in her chest.

If Mrs. Potter had once used the same enchantment on her parents, had once bewitched them for their own safety - then, what she had done herself _hadn't _been a rare and reckless use of a powerful cerebral magic that couldn't be reversed. There was someone who'd had done what she'd done before.

There was a precedent established for what happened when expiremental magic was applied to the Muggle mind.

The information she'd been able to access on cerebral magic - specifically, complex memory modification - had been limited to what she'd been able to scavenge from Hogwarts Library before the castle had been abruptly closed after Dumbledore's murder. What she'd found had been adequate, but there wasn't near enough for her to feel as though she had any real mastery of what she planned to do. All she had to rely on was her confidence in her ability to cast a complex charm. Her confidence in her casting ability had been rather solid, but what had worried her then and continued to worry her now hadn't been her spellcasting skill.

Hermione had been afraid that she wasn't powerful enough for the enchantment to bewitch her parents as she needed it to and _stick_.

The Temporia Spell needed to last as long as Voldemort was a threat and back then, nobody was able to predict when that would be. Her enchantment had to hold permanently, if possible, and that wasn't what the spell was designed for.

Hermione had bewitched her parents with a spell that she'd deliberately made bend to her own purposes and goals - and, she'd been afraid ever since that she'd crossed a line and done something unthinkable, something that nobody had done before.

However, according to Harry -

She hadn't been the only one to find the Temporia Spell and decide to use it for her own purposes on her Muggle family.

Sometime ago, Lily Potter had been a Muggleborn witch with the threat of Voldemort looming above her and had done exactly what Hermione had done herself.

Suddenly, Hermione had to know more. Her words can tumbling out of her all at once, eager and desperate all at once.

"I suppose she wasn't able to do so herself, because she had passed away - but, what happened when the enchantment was lifted from your grandparents, after Voldemort was gone?" asked Hermione, a touch hungrily. "Was it Professor Flitwick who lifted it? Is that why he told you about your mother?"

Harry was silent, very pointedly silent.

He was paler than he had been a few moments previously, his mouth pinched as he appeared take his time finding the words. The wild burst of hope that had flared up within her was promptly dampened, the longer that Harry took to answer her.

Andromeda patted his arm comfortingly, offering him an encouraging but deliberate nod. Hermione wondered what was coming that Harry needed so much support from Andromeda to keep talking.

She didn't have to wonder for long, as Harry finally spoke, his eyes wide and haunted, his experssion pale and pained as he answered her.

"Hermione, I would have never went to live with my awful aunt, if the enchantment was lifted from my grandparents, after Mum died to save me." Harry said quietly. "There was no enchantment for Professor Flitwick to lift from my grandparents, once it became safe again. The reason being is...because...well, because they died within a couple of months of Mum bewitching them. Professor Flitwick believes that the reason they died is because...they were Muggles under the Temporia Spell and their minds weren't able to bear the burden of magic that strong."

Hermione stopped breathing as his words slammed into her, stealing her breath completely.

Mrs. Potter hadn't been frivolous to her dilemma, at all. She'd actually been as gentle of a precursor as possible to the awful truth that Harry had just shared with her. So overtaken by her admiration and her belief in the power of Mrs. Potter's magic, magic which had done the impossible before, Hermione had allowed herself to swell with hope for a positive conclusion -

When the reality was the unthinkable opposite.

"The Temporia Spell has the ability to kill Muggles," Hermione whispered, hollowly.

"Hermione dear," Andromeda said worriedly, half-rising to her feet. "Take a deep breath, darling. I know this is a terrible shock - but, one moment at a time. Breath deeply, now..."

Andromeda seemed far away indeed, as did everything at the moment.

Hermione wasn't quite in her body, as her mind began racing and she inhaled very thinly, very brokenly. Fractured thought after fractured thought thundered through her mind, horrifying scenario exploding and crashing around in her mind as she realized how Mrs. Potter's use of the Temporia Spell had ended.

Harry's Muggle grandparents had _died_.

Professor Flitwick as a world-renowned Charms Master. He was certainly the best living Charms Master in Wizarding Britain - and it was his academic and professional opinion that the use of magic against Mrs. Potter's nonmagical parents certainly correlated their deaths. If he had been the one that Mrs. Potter had apprenticed under and still she had failed...with such knowledge and power and experience supporting her through her much more advanced application of the same spell Hermione had used against her parents...

Hermione wasn't aware that the piteous wail belonged to her, until she found herself wrapped tightly in Harry's embrace.

She hadn't noticed him come around the dinner table and kneel before her chair, gathering her in his arms, fiercely. One moment he'd been across from her at the dinner table, their hands clapsed and in the next, he was held her sincerely as her body trembled with the force of her sobs. Hermione allowed herself to be overcome with her tears, his embrace an anchor as she shattered.

Everything that she had feared, her one truest and deepest fear that no Boggart seemed able to compete with was rushing over, pulling her under, overwhelming her so deeply she felt as though she'd never be able to breathe properly again.

Harry held onto her unwaveringly, as Andromeda's cool hands rubbed at her back, soothing her with a motherly touch Hermione hadn't felt in years.

"I'm so sorry. I wish this wasn't a possibility, it wasn't a thing that could happen - " Harry pressed his face into her hair, his words breaking off with anguish. "I didn't even know, I couldn't have known - I wish it wasn't true for my mum's parents, but Flitwick said - "

Andromeda interrupted, gently.

"Professor Flitwick merely offered his expert opinion and it remains a possibility," Andromeda pointed out, squeezing Hermione's shoulders reassuringly. "From what I understand, this is what he _postulates_, based upon what he knows of Lily and her situation. This isn't a promise that this is the outcome of the Temporia Spell, no matter who casts the enchantment. It is merely a valid possibility."

Hermione looked up at her achingly.

"A very real possibility!" Hermione could hardly see through the tears that never seemed to end, as she almost wailed: "I've probably killed my parents and I have no way of knowing, because I don't know where they are! _I don't even know who they are anymore_!"

Andromeda made an aching noise at her raw pain. Harry tightened his embrace, seeming to know and understand that his hold on her was all that was keeping the shattering parts of her together and whole at the moment.

"Oh, Hermione dear, that's just it. You've just said it yourself. You _don't _have any way of knowing." Andromeda moved from behind her, standing before her and Harry. Something of a circle was formed, as Andromeda kept her hand on Hermione's trembling shoulder, reaching out with her other hand to touch the top of Harry's head soothingly. "I understand how learning this can be a terrible shock, but you musn't give up and assume the worst, darling. You musn't! Just as my theories about the enchantment being lifted are a very real possibility, so is the possibility that your parents did not survive for the enchantment to be lifted - and you must consider them all. The worst outcome is tempting to give into, because it makes it easier to brace yourself it is true. However, we're still on possibilities. We've not yet entered the realm of probabilites, Hermione dear. You musn't give up on hope!"

Logical yet gentle and soothing, Andromeda's steady and encouraging words began to pierce through the malestrom that had taken her over. Hermione found her breath coming easier, her body shaking less, as the reason and sense in Andromeda's comfort became clearer than her hysteria. She didn't seem to be able to stop her tears. But, at the very least - Harry's hold on her didn't seem to be the only thing keeping her grounded and in her body anymore.

As best she could, Hermione took several steadying deep breaths, as Harry leaned back enough to where he no longer had her in an anchoring grip.

"I'm sorry, I really am." Harry said quitely, meaningfully. "I wish I had something better to share, that this wasn't as awful as it is. Andromeda is right, though - it's only a possibility. It has to be considered, just like the good ones have to be thought of, if you're going to know where to start."

"It isn't your fault," Hermione said through less hysterical sobs. "Y-you wanted to help and you did. It isn't something you can blame yourself for, that the only precedent we know of for the magic I used on my parents is so - so - so very awful."

Hermione allowed herself to be gathered close to Harry once more.

His hands were the ones moving soothingly on her back, offering wordless comfort as she buried her face in the curve of his neck. The pain seemed to be pouring from her unbidden, unable to be stemmed or stopped no matter what reassurance was offered or what hope there was ahead.

Andromeda seemed to realize this and with a sympathetic sigh, she patted Hermione gently upon her thick curls.

"As I said, this has been a terrible shock for you, Hermione dear - and, perhaps we should stop our discussions here, for now," suggested Andromeda, with concern. "We can get deeper into this tomorrow or another time. Tonight, however, I believe you've had as much as you can take."

Hermione didn't have the strength or the will to argue nor did she want to.

She felt hollow, as if all that had been keeping her going had been carved out of her, leaving her empty and numb. She had thought she'd been prepared for the worst, had exhausted all possible shock and fear over the past two years of wondering and worrying about her parents - who no longer knew they had her as a daughter. There should have been nothing she could learn that her mind could have come up with that would turn her upside down and inside out like this.

She'd been wrong.

* * *

[**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: The enchantment that Hermione used on her parents is never really explored and I find myself doubting it was just a really good _Oblivate_. Especially being that according to JKR, it can be reversed. The amount of memory modification that the Grangers would have had to be put under to genuinely never know they had a daughter and were completely different people seems like a rather complex spell. Additionally, the part of their mind that I'm guessing the spell was meant for - the temporal lobe - is responsible for some fairly serious cognitive functions, so we're about to get into what happens when you start tinkering around with magic on a nonmagic mind. I have a few theories and it gets pretty serious for a few chapters, from here on out...

Hermione's perception of Lily Potter is what I would imagine a Muggleborn could come to think of Harry's mum, if anyone ever gave her the proper due for her part in defeating Voldemort. Honestly, it should be what a lot of people think of Lily. Yes, Harry survived the Killing Curse - but it was only _because of what Lily did to save him_, not because he was uniquely powerful and rare in and of himself at fifteen months old. For all that Lily's sacrifice is the core of the series, there isn't much said about it in canon besides reminding Harry that it existed and protected him, I feel. Harry becomes the only focus of that once-in-a-lifetime night at Godric's Hollow because he survived and Lily is reduced to a plot point, instead of an interesting measurement of power and magic in the Wizarding. As you can see, I'm not deconstructing or making a villain of Lily because she made a mistake, according to my plot. Just making her more human and complex is all!

I'm writing the next chapter as we speak! Again, thank you for the incredible response to this story. What started as my go at a common fandom trope has become one of my favorite stories to write and I really appreciate how much it is being enjoyed, so far!]


	8. Chapter VIII: The Roads Less Traveled

**Chapter VIII**: _The Roads Less Traveled_

**Thursday, 24 June 1999**

Harry was both surprised and concerned when he came downstairs from his rooms right before sunrise, seeking a cup of tea -

And discovered Hermione in the kitchens, as if she hadn't been to sleep at all.

She did not look up or acknowledge him as he came to stand before her, where she was seated in the breakfast nook. The gentle light of daybreak that came through the window that ensconced the nook made her seem etched in shadows and edges, forlorn and mourning although he could not see her face. There was even something subdued in the rather severe braid she had plaited her thick, wild curls into.

Their discussion last night had clearly broken something in her last night. There had only been devastation upon learning more about what could have become in her parents, a desolation that was only beginning. Harry ached at the clear difference, the obvious change in Hermione in a matter of hours.

Harry gently tapped on the table to get her attention.

"You haven't been upstairs and gotten any sleep, have you?" asked Harry, with cautious concern.

"I did. For a little while, at least," came Hermione's hollow reply, after several moments of frenetic scribbling. "I couldn't sleep much and figured instead of tossing and turning, I could do something productive."

Harry wasn't sure whether or not he agreed with this. "Couldn't this wait a bit, though? I'm sure rest would do you good, help you have a clearer head to do - er, whatever this is."

He was curious and worried about whatever task this was that had her alone, before dawn, with reams of parchment spread out across the table. If she'd only had a piece of parchment or two, he could believe she was sorting out her thoughts in an exercise of pros and cons, calm but anxious.

Instead, this seemed to be entirely different. Different enough for him to become truly worried when even still, Hermione refused to look at him, only having care or attention for whatever she was writing on her scroll.

Hermione shook her head. "I need to get this out of my head and on paper. I'm sure we're going to talk about this more, whenever Andromeda wakes up, and I want to be able to stay on task and get a solution going. This will help me stay focused..."

Harry could see the sense in this, but what he saw in Hermione mattered more. Her shoulders were hunched with a defeat that he'd never known in her before now, as her hands trembled despite the unyielding grip she had on her quill. Right now, regardless of what she felt she needed to do, Hermione was at a breaking point - and, she'd never have the clear mind she wanted for their further discussions, if he didn't step in and do something for her in this moment.

As gently as he could, Harry reached over the table and put his hand on top of hers, stilling her frantic scribbles.

"I think you've done a lot so far and it's time to take a break." Harry held onto her hand tighter, as she tried to start writing again. "I'll make breakfast, you can take a nap, and by then, Andromeda will likely be awake with Teddy."

Hermione shook her head, stubbornly. "I'm not hungry and I can't sleep. Leave me be."

Harry was as determined as she was but was mindful that he didn't want to start an argument with her, not at a time like this. His approach instead was to come around and slid into the seat beside her, never once letting go of her hand. With the other hand, he was able to wrest the quill from her tense grip and tossed down on the parchments, giving her no other choice but to stop and look at him.

She didn't raise her head, but instead, used her own free hand to wipe at her eyes as she began to sniffle.

"You're a wreck right now, Hermione, as you've got every right to be - but, I'm worried. Please, take a break? Just for a little while, please?"

Hermione breathed out a sob.

Harry found himself relieved that she didn't resist being pulled from the breakfast nook, away from her frenetic writings and reams of overwhelmed parchment scrolls. Once she was seated at the island counter, perched upon a barstool, Harry felt a bit more at ease with her right before him, where he could see her and keep an eye on her.

He might not be able to solve this for her and this might be the biggest challenge she'd ever have to face, but at the very least, Harry was determined that she not be alone. Hermione had taken care of him since they were eleven and had never abandoned nor doubted him, her loyal running unspeakably deep. Where she had the same opportunities as Ron had to turn her back on him or think of herself first and foremost, Hermione had instead chosen him, had chosen to never let him alone.

The time had now come for him to do the same for her as she had always done for him.

He would take care of her, especially when she could not take care of herself, and no matter what, through whatever road lay ahead -

Harry would never let her be alone.

* * *

Somewhere around late morning, Harry heard the adorably senseless chatter from Teddy coming down the corridor - and, with a grin, he opened his arms as his godson came toddling wildly into the drawing room, awake and full of light and happiness. Andromeda was only a few steps behind Teddy, humming contentedly as she came into the drawing room, as well.

"Good morning, dearest," said Andromeda, affectionately ruffling his hair as she passed him and seated herself in the armchair across from him. "Is this morning better for Hermione dear?"

Harry nimbly avoided Teddy's attempt to take off his glasses. "Um, not particularly. Well, not the first time around, for sure..." When Andromeda frowned slightly at this, Harry elaborated: "I got up around my usual time and found her in the kitchen. She hadn't slept at all and was have a bit of a breakdown, if I'm being honest. I made her eat something, have a cup tea, and go back to bed for a while. That was earlier, around five o'clock or so - and, she still sleeping, so I'm going to let her. She needs it."

Andromeda made a noise that was both understanding and sympathy, tutting worriedly.

"Poor dear," Andromeda sighed. "This is quite a lot, especially when she thought that the worst of her troubles would be over when this war was finally finished. Any idea of where her mind is, concerning what she wants to do about her parents?"

Harry considered the halting conversation that he'd had with Hermione, as she made slow work of the light breakfast he'd made and forced herself to drink at least two cups of tea. She was nowhere near decided, but from what he'd gathered, she wanted to go looking for her parents, no matter what had become of them. Whether they were alive to have the charmed lifted or the worst had happened to them years ago, Hermione definitely wanted to know.

As to where to start or if she'd even be successful at locating them after all this time...

Harry sighed, heavily.

"From what I know of Hermione, she is going to go to Australia and see if she can find them, whether they're dead or alive." Harry tried not to wince at the unforgiving reality of it all. "I think where she's stuck, however, is how to start a search for them and whether or not she'll be able to locate them at all."

"Well, while I don't know much about her dealings with Muggle Australia, I know for a fact that she'd never be able to simply _go_ to Wizarding Australia. It's more complicated than that." Andromeda must have known what his confused look was about, as she continued, "I'll explain more later on, once we're all seated together, but in short: British nationals aren't welcome in Wizarding Australia. Australia is a member nation of the Magical Commwealth of Oceania and Wizarding Republic of Britain have been their adversaries for decades, now. Not even as as a tourist is a Briton welcomed in Oceania. However, I have a friend in Wizarding Australia's Cabinet of International Wizardry and a few contacts in the Magical Commonwealth Council. Something might be doable, if I approach it all correctly..."

Harry was briefly shocked at this understanding of the Wizarding World down under. In the Muggle World, Australia was a part of the Commonwealth of Britain, its fatherland. Australia, New Zealand - they were all under the same Crown, here in Britain. To think that among wizards, Australia was an enemy of Britain - as seemed the whole of the region, if the Wizarding Commonwealth spanned all of Oceania - didn't make much sense to his understanding of the world.

Andromeda grinned at the uncertain frown he had as he considered this, waving her wand reassuringly.

"As I said, I'll explain it later," Andromeda assured him. "Geopolitical strife aside, I have a strong allyship in several people within that part of the world - and better than being allies, there a few who owe me favors. Whether or not the rules say Britons are welcome in Oceania is immaterial. We'll get what we need, mark my words..."

Harry began to smirk, as Andromeda lost herself in her own thoughts. As he was coming to learn, Andromeda was a Slytherin through and through - and, the more he saw moments like this from her, the more he came to appreciate her.

He hadn't known what to expect from her, despite knowing that she was Tonks's mum and Teddy's grandmother.

All the facts had said that because she was a Slytherin, a Black, and was the twin sister of the Darkest witch in modern British history, he should have not been able to tolerate sight or sound of her. Instead, Harry valued Andromeda deeply. She was not only Teddy's grandmother but his own friend, a confidante who was starting to become like family, the more she freely shared in her grandson with him and honored his place as Teddy's godfather. She was the first person to come to mind when Hermione had confessed her true dilemma with her parents, for many reasons.

This open-hearted willingness to help Hermione and the cunning determination to be successful at doing so were among the best of these reasons.

* * *

When Hermione awoke, early afternoon had come and she did indeed feel as rested and refreshed as Harry had hoped she would. It was about all she felt, however.

The hollow ache that she'd known since last night was as raw as ever within her. She lay curled on her side staring at the wardrobe across the room for far long that she wanted, unable to find the will to pull herself from bed. She'd likely been asleep most of the day and needed to have a bath, get dressed, and seek out Harry and Andromeda. But, to do those simple series of actions seemed to take more than she had within her at the moment.

This wasn't the first time she'd felt like this, this awful and overwhelming sorrow that made it hard to breathe, hard to move, hard to do anything worthwhile at all.

It was the first time she'd felt as though she wouldn't be able to find the sheer grit to overcome it and pull herself together, if only for the day.

Thankful that it was Thursday and she wasn't due at work until tomorrow, Hermione allowed herself as much time as she needed to work up the will to get out of bed and get moving. A few crying spells helped, as did an uneasy drift back into a restless sleep. Ultimately, however, it was the appearance of Kreacher beside her bed that finally gave Hermione something to center on that wasn't the tangle of her own scattered mind and broken heart.

"Kreacher is hoping to not bother Miss, but Master has directed Kreacher to come and see about Miss and her welfare." The wizened elf eyed her, critically. "Is Miss alright?"

Hermione sat up, though it seemed to take quite a bit of effort. The deep glow of the bedroom made it clear it was much later in the afternoon than when she awoke and if Harry had sent Kreacher to ask after her, he must be worried but unsure if he should come and see to her himself.

"I'm about to get out of bed and have a bath, Kreacher. You can let him know I'll be down shortly, please."

Kreacher nodded obediently. "Yes, Miss. Kreacher shall ready the bath for Miss and let Master know. Is there anything else that Kreacher can do for Miss?"

Hermione wanted to protest, make it clear that she was more than capable of drawing her own bath, but she already heard running water coming from the bathroom attached to her suite. Kreacher stared at her expectantly, seeming so eager to please that he was nearly vibrating. Hermione didn't have the heart to do anything except nod in gratitude, declining any further need for his services. Kreacher had come so very far from the poisonous elf from several summers ago. She couldn't imagine being dismissive or resistance against the stellar care he'd provided, with Harry as his Master instead of the House of Black.

The bath invigorated her enough that she was able to feel somewhat normal as she descended the stairs, following the scent of an incredible meal being prepared in the kitchen.

Harry leapt from his stool with an exclamation of relief the moment he saw her.

"Hermione!" Harry said her name almost as he it were a psalm. Hermione found her breath catching in her chest as he came closer as she saw how his eyes practically glowed with sincere happiness to be standing before her, seeing her for himself. "Kreacher said you were alright and were having a bath. How do you feel after getting sleep?"

Hermione didn't know how to answer fully, choosing instead to shrug her shoulders wordlessly. Harry didn't seem to mind. With a nod that would have been called for if she'd assured him that she was fine, Harry put his arm around her shoulders and guided her towards the kitchen island. The mouthwatering smell that had carried her down here was a full spread of magnificently crafted Mediterranean food.

Andromeda beckoned her to make herself comfortable, offering her an empty plate to fill as she wished. As if he knew that she was not interested in doing so for herself, Harry took up the familiar role of dishing her food for her. Unlike when he did so, simply out of pure courtesy, there was a certain tender care he applied when choosing what she'd like to eat. He seemed to understand her without words, setting down a plate of perfectly selected foods for her troubled nerves and knotted stomach.

Unlike last night, Hermione was prepared for what a dinner with Harry and Andromeda would bring. When Andromeda cleared her throat, gracefully but meaningfully, Hermione sat down her fork and gave the witch her full attention.

She'd had time to think and was reasonably sure of where to start, even though she wasn't entirely sure that she'd made her final decision. Now, it was time to get the help she needed to get started - and see what lay ahead for her on this final challenge of the war.

"Where is your mind at, Hermione dear, in regards to you parents?" Andromeda quietly asked. "Have you thought much about it, since last night?"

Hermione sighed, emptily. "That's all I've been able to think about since last night. I have an idea, but I don't know what to think of it or where to go from there."

Andromeda gave her an encouraging smile, as Harry put his fork down to listen, just as intently.

"No matter if I'm able to find them alive and reverse the enchantment or if the worst has come to pass and they're gone...I have to go and find my parents." Hermione declared, thankful that her voice didn't quake as much as her heart was, in the moment. "It's the right thing to do. They deserve to know the truth and be returned to themselves, if they're alive. If they - if they aren't - if the worst has happened, then they deserve to be found and brought home. Laid to rest and allowed peace, after all that I did to make the end of their lives nothing like they imagined or deserved..."

Hermione felt her throat constrict as the weight of her own words threatened to overwhelm her. She knew it was a possibility now, but she just couldn't imagine if it were to become her reality. Harry reached for her hand, the most reassuring gesture she'd come to know in the past couple of days. Their interlaced fingers were something to focus on, as her eyes welled with tears, and Harry squeezed her hand, fiercely.

"Right then." Harry looked between her and Andromeda, boldly. "That is the first step, it seems - the four of us are going to Australia to look for Mr. and Mrs. Granger."

Andromeda clapped her hands together, decidedly. "Our search for the Drs. Granger begins with that, then." A flick of her wand created a small roll of parchment and she made a tick at the top, clearly starting a list. "I'll go ahead and contact my colleague in the Cabinet of International Wizardry and open negotiations. I can do that as soon as tomorrow morning, I believe - as well as make contact with my other allies in the Commonwealth - "

"The four of us?" Hermione finally found her voice, momentarily overwhelmed by the immediate and decisive action in response to her desires. "You can't mean - I mean, I don't expect you to drop your lives and follow me out to Australia. I have no idea if I'm going to be able to do this! Or, how long it will take to locate them, if I am able - "

Harry was the one to interrupt her, before she hit her stride.

"Of course we will. We aren't dropping our lives or abandoning anything, if we take a few weeks or a few months to help you." Harry paused to take a bite of his pita and hummus, eyeing her with a touch of exasperation: "I wouldn't have thought I needed to remind you of how much more quickly things get done, when they are three on a task, instead of just one."

Hermione wanted to smile at the reminder of how it used to be between the three of them.

Before she and Ron had begun dating and the dynamics of their friendship had titled to sometimes leave Harry as an entity separate from their couple. It had been a time not too long ago, where things were different.

Together, before they'd even become adults, she and Ron had helped Harry to defeat a Dark movement - and Harry had constantly been reminding them of this, since the Final Battle. Especially as the Wizarding World appeared to begin losing its memory, with Harry becoming the singular focus as the Chosen One, as the country settled back down after war. Those who'd surrounded him and been critical to his support system were becoming lesser and lesser mentioned, these days.

The Wizarding World may have been waning on appreciation and accolades the further they moved from Voldemort and his wars, but Harry certainly was not.

As he continued to make clear, helping her find her mum and dad was now the focus of his attention, with Voldemort and his Dark movement forever gone and in the past. Whatever that took, he was going to do - and, Andromeda was just as committed as Harry.

"I know you've said you're in this with me, but...honestly, I can't ask either of you to simply disappear from Britain to trail me halfway around the planet." Hermione sniffed slightly, willing herself to suppress her tears as much as possible. She was determined to get through this without tears, which seemed endless since yesterday. "I'd feel terrible for being responsible for uprooting lives again, after what I've already done to my parents."

Andromeda tsked at this bleak perception. "None of that, darling. That isn't true in the least!"

"Of course it'd be. Both of you have lives here. Harry, you've only just come back into the Wizarding World for good. And, Mrs. Tonks - Teddy, he's so small. Too young, certainly, for such an extensive and unpredictable effort this will be..."

Harry sighed, wiping his hands with a napkin as he turned on his stool to face her, fully.

"Hermione, _stop_."

It could have sounded like a command, harsh and displeased. Instead, coming from Harry, with the soft knowing in his voice, Hermione found herself trailing off, unable to continue her shrill doubt. She quieted, looking between Harry and Andromeda with glassy eyes.

"Hermione, you need us to do this and we won't take no for an answer." Harry sounded so boldly sure of this, Hermione could only nod in understanding. "If nothing else, you're going to need Andromeda to get anywhere near that part of the world as witch. From what I understand, starting in the Wizarding World and going into the Muggle one is our best bet. Our only bet, honestly."

Andromeda was back to her list, her full lips pursed in thought as she agreed, absently.

Hermione made a small noise of confusion. "I thought getting there would be the simplest part of this whole thing, frankly. Just get on a plane to Heathrow and make the hours-long flight to - Sydney? Canberra? It'd be tedious, but simplest, surely."

Andromeda looked up from her scroll, an eyebrow raised thoughtfully. "With what Muggle identities, darling?"

Hermione blinked, startled at the truth of this.

"Harry suggested that this would be the path you'd take, so I took the liberty of doing a bit of research in the Muggle World. Neither Harry Potter nor Hermione Granger exist, I'm afraid." Andromeda looked at her carefully.

Harry made a noise that was somewhere been a scoff and a grunt. "I never did exist, despite what I assumed. Thanks to Dumbledore's plans for me, I was attending primary school through a clever combination of forgery of paperwork and Compulsion Charms." There was something cold in his gaze, as he added in a hard voice: "It makes sense that the Dursleys got away with every rotten thing they'd ever done to me. I should have been seen to by Social Service, because I didn't exist anywhere but in the local primary school records - and, anyone who thought to look deeper were steered away by a Compulsion Charm. Then, once I'd gone to Hogwarts..." Harry shook his head, as if he was still struggling with this epiphany. "I never noticed because I was so miserable, there summer after summer, but I never left the house whenever I came back from Hogwarts. I was allowed to walk the neighborhood, sure. That was it, however. I never went anywhere, never did anything that requried me to deal with any other Muggles that weren't my aunt and her family. It was like I disappeared after primary - and it was because I did. I don't exist, in the Muggle World."

Hermione was somewhat stunned as Harry revealed this, Andromeda nodding along in quiet confirmation.

"I don't have a birth certificate, an ID, anything that says I'm who I am - and that's because Harry Potter only exists in the Wizarding World, not the Muggle World." Harry grinned, ruefully. "So, no trips through customs at airports for me. Not here at Heathrow and certainly not anywhere else in the world, according to Andromeda."

"The same goes for you, as well, unfortunately." Andromeda appeared to be gathering her words before speaking, then said as gently as she could: "I'm afraid you were rather thorough in the execution of your plans. My guess is that once you'd seen your parents out of the country safely, you become determined to not leave a trail of yourself in the Muggle World - and, you were more efficient than you might have hoped to be."

Hermione nodded, still too numb from the gravity of it all to feel this as much of a blow.

When she'd staged the auto accident that her parents had been in to declare them dead, she'd Transfigured rocks into replicas of their bodies - and, after a bit of debate, she'd added Transfigured and deemed it to be herself. A Muggle auto accident that had claimed the lives of Hugh and Helen Granger had also done the same for their daughter was tragic but not suspicious. If anyone had come looking, they'd find three gravestones, and believe that was all there was to the family Granger - not searching any deeper than what was obvious.

In doing so, however, she'd made certain she couldn't go back to the Muggle World as an option.

As Andromeda had speculated, Hermione hadn't meant to so thoroughly erase herself from the world of her birth with her own death at seventeen. She'd only been thinking of how to keep her parents safe and unable to be located by Death Eaters. She hadn't given thought to what would come afterwards, whether or not she'd actually want to be able to move between worlds as she'd been able to before when the war was over and done with.

It had been one of many decisions, it seemed, that she wasn't feeling the full weight of until now, when it had truly come to matter.

"Alright, then," Hermione said with a deep sigh, not wanting to linger on what could not be undone. "We start in the Wizarding World, then. What does it take to get to Australia, as a witch, instead of a Muggle?"

Andromeda looked down at her list again, shaking her head.

"More than simply booking an International Portkey, I can tell you that. How much do you know about international relations between the Wizarding Republic of Britain and the Magical Commonwealth of Oceania, Hermione dear?"

Hermione pursed her lips in thought.

"The Magical Commonwealth is a grouping of countries in Oceania - Australia, New Zealand, and several Pacific Island nations." This much she remembered from her summer reading on the international Wizarding community, right before her fourth-year. Her interest had been sparked by the Quidditch World Cup and her hope that she'd meet Wizarding folk from all over the world - but, she'd only gained cursory knowledge of Oceania. "Other that knowing that Australia is a member nation of this magical commonwealth, I'm not aware of much more." Hermione eyed Andromeda, adding hesitantly: "Why? Is there something I should know about us going to Wizarding Australia?"

"We aren't allowed," said Harry, before Andromeda could answer. "No Brits allowed and it's been that way for at least fifty years, since after Grindelwald's War."

Hermione was surprised at this, her eyebrows going up as she looked between Harry and Andromeda with wide eyes.

"Well, if we aren't allowed, then how are we ever supposed to find my parents?" Hermione tried not to give sudden weight on her chest. "If we can't go through the Muggle World and we're not welcome or allowed in the Wizarding World, just how are we ever supposed to make this happen?"

"Through me," said Andromeda, simply but soothingly. "That's what this list is for. British nationals technically aren't welcomed anywhere in the Magical Commonwealth of Oceania, but I have allies and favors that will get us there, regardless of what's allowed or not. The roads less traveled are often the best at leading us where we need to be - and that's what I plan on making full use of, Hermione dear."

Harry reached for the hand of hers that wasn't holding onto her glass of water, squeezing it encouragingly.

"We're going to Australia, whether it's allowed or not and once we're there, we will get your parents back. We will, Hermione."

There was no room to doubt Harry when he spoke so boldly, so confidently. This was the same assurance that he'd had that no matter what it took, no matter what he had to go through, he would defeat Voldemort and eradicate the world of every last Death Eater - and he had.

After all this time, Hermione had learned not to doubt that if nothing else, Harry could accomplish the impossible.

* * *

[**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: I was inspired by _Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them_ the film, when it comes to the state of the international Wizarding community. As evidenced by how the Magical Congress of the USA (MACUSA) had completely different rules for relations with Muggle than Britain does - no contact at all versus minimal contact in Britain - I thought about taking it a step further and making the relationship between magical nations among themselves to be wildly different than their Muggle counterparts. There is a good reason why Oceania (New Zealand, Australia, Pacific Islanders) are going to be at odds with Britons and why they aren't too hot about them - and, I think it'll be an appreciated perspective!

It is erring a little on the side of unlikely, but I feel that my explanation for Harry not having a Muggle identity isn't that far-fetched. Just more on the edges of unlikely. After all, he was left on the doorstep of the Dursleys and the type of people who put a baby in a cupboard under the stairs and let him stay there until they felt forced to do otherwise...those aren't the type of guardians I see doing things like getting him a birth certificate, seeing to his medical needs (which would create records), or doing anything but the bare minimum to keep him alive. So, none of the traditional record trails a child is expected to have and after eleven, he really does disappear, except for summer holidays - for which, I give my own reasoning that works for this particular fic.

All of this is pretty heavy right now, but I promise, it will start getting lighter very soon! If nothing else, now that Hermione is working towards a solution on her parents, she's starting to see the dynamics changing in her relationship with Harry. Only, I don't believe she'd be so quick as to jump right into accepting her feelings. While Harry is used to doing what he feels instead what seems appropriate, that isn't our Hermione. She's going to resist a bit before realizing or admitting that she doesn't see Harry as a friend - and that's where the fun comes in!

The Weasleys return in the next chapter and there are a few bumps in the road. Remember, that Sunday dinner where Ron promises to propose is coming up and I can assure you...it will be explosive!

Thank you for the reviews and follows! I'm more motivated than ever to turn a new chapter as quickly as possible, so hopefully, I have another update for you all by Easter. Cheers!]


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